IRLF 


B    3   325 


REESE    LIBRARY 

I      I'HK 

UNIVERSITY   OF   CALIFORNIA 

Received. 


(7 

Accessions  .Vv  ^-^  ?  &  "7 


\ 


aul 


PAUL    REDDING: 


OF 


THE  BRANDYWINE, 


BY  T.   B.   READ. 


.H  SIT  Y 


BOSTON: 
A.  TOMPKINS  AND  B.  B.  MUSSEY. 

REDDING    &    CO. 

1845. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1845,  by 

A.     TOMPK1NS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


Wm.  A.  Hall  8f  Co.'s  Press,  141  Washington  street. 


JD^iruatton. 


TO 


NICHOLAS   LONGWORTH,  ESQ., 

OF    CINCINNATI, 


IS  MOST  RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED, 

BY 
THE    AUTHOR. 


NOT  mine  the  measured  tread  of  solemn  marches, 
When  sable  weeds  float  plume-like  on  the  air ; 

Nor  stately  step  beneath  triumphal  arches, 
When  conq'ring  heroes  flowery  chaplets  wear. 

Not  of  the  days  of  armor,  shields,  and  lances, 
When  monarchs  bade  the  tournament  begin  ; 

When  woman's  presence  made  uncertain  chances 
More  fatal  still  amid  the  clashing  din ;  — 

When  flowed  the  tide  of  war  with  purpose  holy, 
And  spread  its  waves  of  blood  o'er  Palestine  ; 

And  when,  to  expiate  some  sin  or  folly, 
The  weary  pilgrim  sought  the  distant  shrine. 

Not  from  those  days,  so  olden  and  romantic, 

My  humble  wand  would  raise  the  scene  sublime ; 

A  mightier  voice  hath  called  from  graves  gigantic 
The  stalwart  champions  of  that  iron  time. 

Nor  have  I  sat  amid  those  lofty  towers 

Where  Speculation  broods  with  visage  pale ; 

Nor  walked  with  impious  feet  Love's  sacred  bowers, 
To  tell  once  more  an  oft-repeated  tale ;  — 

No  individual  wrongs  have  deigned  to  borrow, 
To  swell  the  story ;  nor  disturbed  the  dead ; 

But  through  the  changing  paths  of  joy  and  sorrow, 
Have  followed  where  Imagination  led. 


PAUL  REDDING, 


CHAPTER  I. 

"  Though  truly  some  there  are 
Whose  footsteps  superstitiously  avoid 
This  venerable  tree;    for  when  the  wind 
Blows  keenly,  it  sends  forth  a  creaking  sound 
(Above  the  general  roar  of  woods  and  crags) 
Distinctly  heard  from  far  —  a  doleful  note  ! 
As  if  (so  Grecian  shepherds  would  have  deemed,) 
The  Hamadryad,  pent  within,  bewailed 
Some  bitter  wrong.    Nor  is  it  unbelieved, 
By  ruder  fancy,  that  a  troubled  ghost 
Haunts  this  old  trunk  ;  lamenting  deeds  of  which 
The  flowery  ground  is  conscious." 

WORDSWORTH. 

THE  BRANDYWINE  river  may  be  observed,  at  one 
time,  winding  slowly,  in  its  silvery  silence,  through 
richly-pastured  farms ;  or  running  broad  and  rip 
pling  over  its  beautiful  bed  of  pearly  shells  and 
golden  pebbles,  (with  which  it  toys  and  sings  as 
merrily  as  an  innocent-hearted  child,)  until  its 
waters  contract  and  roll  heavily  and  darkly  beneath 
the  grove  of  giant  oaks,  elms  and  sycamores ;  but 
soon,  like  the  sullen  flow  of  a  dark 'heart,  it  breaks 
angrily  over  the  first  obstruction.  Thus  you  may 
1 


10  PAUL     REDDING. 

see  the  Brandywine,  at  one  point,  boiling  savagely 
over  a  broken  bed  of  rocks,  until  its  thick  sheets  of 
foam  slide,  like  an  avalanche  of  snow,  into  a  deep 
pool,  where  it  sends  up  a  whispering  voice,  like 
that  which  pervades  a  rustling  audience  when  the 
drop-curtain  has  shed  its  folds  upon  a  scene  that, 
like  the  "  Ancient  Mariner,"  has  held  each  ear  and 
eye  as  with  a  magic  spell. 

This  place  is  bound  in,  on  either  side,  by  an 
almost  perpendicular  precipice  of  dark  rocks  ;  at 
the  top  of  which,  among  the  crevices,  grow  a  few 
small  cedars ;  but  farther  back,  as  the  soil  increases 
in  depth,  the  trees  are  larger,  and  form,  upon  that 
eminence,  a  beautiful  grove,  where  the  twilight, 
even  at  high  noon,  is  held  a  delicious  captive. 
From  the  limbs  of  the  largest  elms  hang  long 
waving  vines,  wrought,  as  you  might  think,  into  the 
fantastic  splendors  of  the  richest  pile  of  ornamental 
Gothic,  and 

"  'Neath  cloistered  boughs  each  floral  bell  that  swingeth, 

And  tolls  its  perfume  on  the  passing  air, 
Makes  Sabbath  in  the  fields,  and  ever  ringeth 

A  call  to  prayer  !  " 

Those  natural  arbors  are  entirely  devoid  of  under 
brush,  and  so  perfectly  carpeted  with  that  evergreen 
moss,  that  bends  and  rises  elastic  as  you  step,  you 
could  not  but  imagine  that  there  Titania  held  her 
moonlit  revelries !  and  the  voice  of  the  waters, 
borne  on  the  air  down  through  the  chasm,  when 
softened  by  the  distance  into  music,  seemed,  indeed, 


PAUL     REDDING.  11 

to  be  a  melody  furnished  by  invisible   musicians 
whilst  nature  held  high  festival. 

It  was  to  this  place,  one  sunny  afternoon  in 
September,  that  a  pedestrian  was  attracted,  by  the 
richness  of  the  scene,  from  the  main  road  that 
wound  around  the  side  of  the  hill.  He  was  not 
more  than  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  of  a  slender 
constitution.  For  awhile  his  nervous  dark  eye 
wandered  from  object  to  object ;  he  saw  the  wild 
fish-hawk  circling  high  in  heaven,  and  watched  it 
until  at  last  it  struck  downwards  at  an  acute  angle 
and  disappeared  beneath  the  waters  ;  the  youth 
gazed  at  the  spot  until  he  beheld  the  bird  rise  again 
and  dash  the  flashing  spray  from  his  dusky  wings. 
It  is  a  strange  sensation  to  stand,  as  it  were,  a 
sentinel  on  one  of  nature's  own  embattlements  ;  — 
to  be  the  only  human  creature  for  the  time  that  is 
gazing  on  a  scene  of  startling  grandeur,  —  to  be  in 
that  situation  when  with  one  step  we  might  plunge 
our  bodies  into  an  eternal  oblivion,  where  man 
might  never  after  dream  of  our  destination  !  How 
strange,  too,  is  that  dreadful  impulse,  which  strives 
in  some  under  such  circumstances,  to  gain  the 
ascendency  over  reason,  and  to  draw  them  on  to 
fatal  consequences !  Such  was  the  giddy  feeling 
with  which  the  youth  started  back  from  the  edge  of 
the  precipice,  almost  trembling  to  think  that  one 
moment  more  might  have  been  too  late  !  Let  not 
this  be  thought  an  evidence  of  cowardice ;  but 
rather  the  effect  of  a  most' nervous  imagination  ever 


12  PAUL     REDDING. 

on  the  stretch  and  cultivated  far  beyond  the  other 
faculties  of  the  mind.  Paul  Redding,  for  such  was 
the  name  of  the  young  man,  hurried  away  from 
the  scene,  feeling  a  pressure  upon  his  brain,  for  the 
moment,  almost  intolerable  ;  and  emerging  into  the 
calm  recesses  of  the  grove,  threw  himself  upon  a 
mossy  mound.  The  loveliness  of  the  place  soon 
stole  upon  his  senses.  Little  flowers  were  smiling 
beside  him;  squirrels  were  leaping  from  limb  to 
limb,  as  fearlessly  as  though  man  were  the  usual 
inhabitant  of  the  scene ;  and  Paul's  imagination 
once  more  freely  played  with  the  beautiful  things 
about  him.  His  fancy  whispered  that  perchance 
some  brave  Indian  chieftain  slept  beneath  that  old 
oak,  that  reared  its  head  so  majestically  to  heaven, 
a  monument  raised  by  pitying  nature  over  her 
warrior  son.  And  he  could  not  but  sigh  to  think 
that  some  gentle  maid  might  be  there,  even  beneath 
the  very  mound  on  which  he  rested,  without  a  line 
or  mark  to  tell  where  rests  the  innocent ;  yet  could 
he  read  a  divine  epitaph  written  with  modest  violets 
upon  a  mossy  tablet;  —  yes,  an  epitaph  that  nature 
each  year  will  renew,  even  when  the  mightiest 
monuments  have  ceased  to  tell  their  tales !  As 
Paul  beheld  the  slanting  bars  of  sunlight,  that 
pierced  through  the  deep  retreat,  he  was  reminded 
of  the  distance  which  he  had  yet  to  go,  and  turning 
from  the  grove  he  pursued  his  way  for  a  moment ; 
but  the  magic  spirit  of  the  place  had  thrown,  as  it 
were,  its  flowery  fetters  about  his  feet,  and  he 


PAUL   REDDING.  13 

could  not  tear  himself  away.  As  he  stood  wrapped 
in  the  hazy  mantle,  that  the  scene  around  and  his 
fancy  had  woven  about  him,  he  thought  that  those 
grand  old  trees  seemed  with  their  broad  brazen 
faces  to  smile  upon  their  smaller  mates,  while  the 
latter,  covered  with  moving  vines,  appeared  like 
joyous  maidens  weaving  garlands  for  their  grim 
lovers.  But  alas, 

"  —  The  Dryad  days  were  brief, 

Whereof  the  poets  talk, 
When  that,  which  breathes  within  the  leaf, 

Could  slip  its  bark  and  walk." 

This  scene  induced  Paul  to  strive  and  transcribe  it 
to  paper.  He  sat  down  upon  a  stone,  at  a  little 
distance,  beside  an  old  apple-tree,  whose  blasted 
trunk  leant  over  almost  to  the  earth.  The  youth 
wondered  how  long  it  had  been  since  that  antiquated 
fruit-bearer  had  been  planted  there.  He  saw  down 
by  the  road-side  a  large  dilapidated  square  stone 
building  ;  but  the  great  number  of  fruit-trees  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  house  seemed  to  bear  no  fellowship 
with  this.  Around  him  were  the  marks  of  old  ex 
cavations,  with  long  grass  growing  over  the  stones 
that  filled  them.  Over  one  of  these  places  evidently 
had  stood  a  house,  that  day  after  day  had  thrown 
a  time-marking  shadow  across  the  hill.  Substance 
and  shadow,  thought  the  youth,  where  are  they  ? 
The  storms  of  many  years  have  beaten  one  into 
the  earth,  and  the  sun  has  picked  up  the  other ! 
Those  depressions  in  the  sod  seemed,  indeed,  like 


14  PAUL    REDDING. 

the  footprints  of  a  past  generation.  How  long, 
sighed  Paul,  has  it  been  since  happy,  fair-haired 
children  played  at  the  door  of  this  lost  dwelling  ? 
or  gathered  the  ruddy-cheeked  apples  from  this 
tree,  their  own  faces  as  beautiful  and  glowing  ? 
Where  are  they  now  ?  Time  has  pressed  his 
finger  upon  the  cheeks  of  some,  leaving  an  indel 
ible  print,  while  he  now  stands  with  green  sandals 
on  the  graves  of  others.  In  the  midst  of  this 
meditation,  Paul's  eye  again  reverted  to  the  paper 
and  pencil ;  but  he  had  revelled  too  deeply  in  the 
grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  scene  to  trace  out  with 
cool  precision  each  particular  feature.  The  loveli 
ness  of  the  landscape  had  been  melting  into  his 
very  soul,  and  the  urn  was  not  yet  full  to  over 
flowing.  When  the  spirit,  which  administers  the 
power  to  write  or  to  draw,  impels,  it  is  imperative, 
and  he  who  writes  or  draws  without  the  promptings 
of  that  spirit,  is  profane  !  As  the  eye  of  the  youth 
again  fell  upon  the  paper,  and  as  his  ear  caught  the 
music  of  the  river,  scarcely  aware  of  what  he  did, 
he  traced  these  lines,  which  were  the  real  out- 
bursting  of  a  heart  full  of  strange  melodies  : 

THE    BRANDYWINE. 
I. 

Not  Juniata's  rocky  tide 
That  bursts  its  mountain  barriers  wide, 
Nor  Susquehanna  broad  and  fair, 
Nor  thou,  sea-drinking  Delaware, 
May  with  that  lovely  stream  compare 

V- 


EAUL     REDDING.  15 

That  draws  its  winding  silver  line 
Through  Chester's  storied  vales  and  hills, 
The  bright,  the  laughing  Brandywine, 
That  dallies  with  its  hundred  mills. 

IT. 

It  sings  beneath  its  bridges  gray 
To  cheer  the  dusty  traveller's  way ; 
Or  courting  for  a  time  his  glance, 
It  rests  in  glassy  stillness  there, 
And  soon  gives  back  his  countenance 

Beguiled  of  half  its  care. 
Or  wide  before  some  cottage  door 
It  spreads  to  show  its  pebbled  floor ; 
And  there  while  little  children  meet 
To  gather  shells  at  sunny  noon, 
Its  ripples  sparkle  round  their  feet, 

And  weave  a  joyous  tune. 

in. 

Yet  I  have  seen  it  foam  when  pent 
As  wroth  at  the  impediment; 
For  like  our  noble  ancestry 
It  ever  struggled  to  be  free ! 
But  soon  along  some  shady  bank 
In  conscious  liberty  it  sank, 
Then  woke  and  sought  the  distant  bay 
With  many  a  blessing  on  its  way. 

IV. 

Oh  when  our  life  hath  run  its  course, 
Our  billowy  pulses  lost  their  force, 
Then  may  we  know  the  heavenly  ray 
Of  peace  hath  lit  our  useful  way  ; 
Yet  feel  assured  that  every  ill 
Eath  sunk  beneath  a  steadfast  will. 


16  PAUL     REDDING. 

May  we,  when  dying,  leave  behind 

Somewhat  to  cheer  a  kindred  mind ; 

That  toil-worn  souls  may  rather  bless 

Than  curse  us  in  their  sore  distress. 

For  O,  his  is  a  hateful  lot 

Who  dies  accursed,  or  dies  forgot; 

But  sweet  it  is  to  know  the  brave 

May  conquer,  with  good  deeds,  the  grave  ; 

And  leave  a  name  that  long  may  shine 

Like  that  of  memory  divine, 

The  far-famed  "  Banks  of  Brandy  wine." 

Paul  had  proceeded  thus  far,  when,  suddenly,  a 
heavy  shadow  fell  across  the  paper ;  he  turned  his 
gaze  hurriedly  up,  —  there  stood  confronting  him  a 
tall,  gaunt  figure,  which,  as  it  was  situated  exactly 
between  himself  and  the  afternoon  sun,  seemed  to 
be  at  first  but  one  dense  shadow,  with  just  sufficient 
of  the  human  form  to  make  its  appearance  ghostly. 
The  young  man  started  to  his  feet,  and  by  so  doing, 
was  enabled  to  discern  the  face  and  features  of  the 
stranger,  which  were  those  of  a  tall,  middle-aged 
man,  haggard  and  insane.  His  large,  black  eyes 
flashed  wildly  from  beneath  dark,  heavy  brows ; 
his  features  were  regular,  and  his  complexion  was 
of  that  sombre  hue,  which  is  only  seen  on  those 
persons  who  are  subject  to  all  vicissitudes  of  wind 
and  sun.  His  locks  were  long  and  straggling,  and 
his  cheeks  deeply  sunken.  He  wore  a  long,  dark, 
old-fashioned  surtout ;  around  his  waist  was  tied  a 
large,  parti-colored  handkerchief,  whilst  another  of 


PAUL     REDDING.  17 

a  similar  character  was  fastened  around  his  neck 
outside  of  the  upright  coat-collar.  Paul  surveyed 
him  with  wonder ;  and  the  mysterious  man  stood 
leaning  on  a  tall  staff,  gazing  wildly  on  the  youth  ; 
his  lips  moving  inaudibly,  as  though  devoid  of  all 
power  of  articulation.  His  lank  hands,  as  they 
grasped  the  top  of  the  stick,  seemed  like  those  of  a 
skeleton,  encased  in  shrivelled  gloves.  At  last  he 
muttered  aloud, 

"  Did  you  see  them  pass  this  way  ?  " 

"  See  what  pass  this  way  ?  "  replied  Paul. 

"Ay,  ay,  I  thought  so,"  said  the  man,  looking 
vacantly  on  the  distance.  A  silence  of  some 
moments  ensued  ;  in  the  mean  time,  Paul  strove  to 
invent  some  plan  by  which  he  could  draw  some 
thing  satisfactory  from  the  stranger,  and  therefore 
requested  him  to  sit  down,  at  the  same  time  point 
ing  to  the  stone  seat  beneath  the  old  apple-tree. 

"  No  !  no !  not  there  !  not  there  !  "  cried  the 
stranger.  "  I  've  been  scraping  the  spots  from  the 
floor  with  this  blade !  "  as  he  spoke,  he  produced 
a  large,  broad-bladed,  buck-handled  knife.  "  Yes, 
with  this  blade,"  he  continued ;  "  they  say,  that 
which  gives  may  take  away ;  but  oak  is  hard  wood, 
and  it  holds  a  stain  as  tightly  as  the  conscience  ! " 
With  a  loud  hysterical  laugh,  the  maniac  hurried 
away  toward  the  wood,  leaving  the  young  man  to 
pursue  his  course  and  to  draw  his  own  conclusions. 


CHAPTER    II. 

Hominem  pagina  nostra  sapit. 


MARTIAL. 


MYNHEER  GOTLIEB  SPECKUNCROUT  was  the  pro 
prietor  of  the  Half-way  House,  a  place  of  "  enter 
tainment  for  man  and  beast,"  situated  on  the  road 
leading  from  Philadelphia  to  Lancaster.  The  host 
was  a  very  diminutive  specimen  of  humanity,  with 
a  very  round  head  and  a  remarkably  red  nose. 
Of  a  warm  summer  afternoon,  he  would  take  his 
pipe  and  station  himself  beneath  the  old  elm-tree 
that  shaded  the  front  of  the  inn,  and  for  hours 
contemplate  with  intense  interest  the  counterfeit 
presentment  of  the  "  Half-way  House,"  on  the 
swinging  sign-board.  It  was  with  great  compla 
cency  and  secret  admiration  that  he  gazed  upon 
something  in  the  shape  of  a  man,  very  uniquely 
enveloped  in  a  long  waistcoat  and  red  night-cap, 
represented  as  helping  a  stranger  from  the  stage 
coach.  With  considerable  curiosity,  too,  he  com 
pared  each  particular  button  of  his  own  vest  with 
those  of  the  one  on  the  sign ;  and  with  quiet  deter 
mination,  each  day  resolved  that  his  cap  should 
undergo  a  course  of  soap  and  water  to  restore  its 
primitive  brightness,  in  order  that  the  one  on  the 
board  might  not  outvie  the  original.  Nor  could 
Mynheer  Speckuncrout  refrain  at  all  times  from 


PAUL     REDDING.  19 

speaking  aloud  his  admiration  of  that  wonderful 
specimen  of  art.  Every  new  guest  must  undergo 
the  infliction  of  hearing  all  the  merits  of  the  picture 
explained  and  expatiated  upon,  and  Mynheer  never 
finished  an  eulogy  upon  John  Dobbs,  the  painter, 
without  repeating  the  exclamation  of  the  frau 
Speckuncrout,  when  she  first  beheld  the  portrait  of 
the  Half-way  House.  He  would  take  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth,  and  exclaim,  "  Der  frau,  when  she  saw 
der  pictur,  put  up  her  specs,  den  put  'em  down, 
den  looked  close  at  der  pictur,  den  stood  away,  an' 
she  said,  'Veil  now,  John  Dobbs,  veil  I  declare,  if 
I  did  n't  know  dat  vasn't  Gotlieb  Speckuncrout,  I 
should  say  that  it  vas,  for  its  just  as  much  like 
Gotlieb  Speckuncront  as  I  never  see ! '  Ha,  ha, 
dat  vas  vot  der  frau  said,  yes."  Thereupon  Myn 
heer  would  replace  his  pip'e,  rub  his  hands  briskly 
together,  and  send  them  on  an  exploring  expedition 
into  the  depths  of  his  pockets. 

One  warm  afternoon  in  September,  the  host,  as 
usual,  was  sitting  beneath  the  old  elm  tree,  gazing 
at  his  counterpart  swinging  gently  to  and  fro,  at 
the  same  time  very  meditatively  rubbing  his  hand 
over  the  features  of  his  face  ;  but  his  proboscis  was 
the  especial  point  of  attraction.  He  had  just  ex 
claimed  to  himself,  as  was  his  practice,  when  no 
other  audience  happened  to  be  at  hand,  "  And  der 

frau  said,  veil    now,  John  Dobbs  "     Just  at 

that  moment  he  was  startled   by  the  sound  of  the 
stageman's  horn.     Mynheer  left  the  exclamation  of 


20  PAUL     REDDING. 

the  frau  Speckuncrout  unfinished,  for  that  was  no 
time  to  contemplate  the  fine  arts.  The  driver 
cracked  his  whip,  and  the  horses  dashed  furiously 
up  to  the  door  of  the  inn.  A  very  tall  gentleman 
in  a  military  suit,  boasting  remarkably  red  hair, 
tremendous  mustaches  and  imperial  of  the  same 
agreeable  sunset  hue,  gave  Mynheer  Gotlieb  his 
hand ;  the  little  host  very  good-naturedly  assisted 
that  savage-looking,  warlike  gentleman  from  the 
coach,  and  the  warlike  gentleman,  in  a  very  com 
manding  voice,  ordered  the  good-natured  host  to 
bring  in  his  baggage,  give  him  the  best  room  in  the 
house,  and  the  best  dinner  that  the  place  would 
afford,  in  the  shortest  possible  notice.  To  all  of 
which  Gotlieb  Speckuncrout  answered,  "  Yaw, 
Mynheer,"  and  proceeded  to  the  business  forthwith. 
However,  in  a  few  moments  he  was  summoned 
very  loudly  by  the  warlike  gentleman,  and  when 
the  host  made  his  appearance,  the  aforesaid  gentle 
man  looked  Waterloo  at  him,  and  exclaimed,  "  I 
say,  fellow,  where  is  the  landlord  ?  " 

Mynheer  was  thunderstruck.  He  opened  his 
eyes  to  their  fullest  extent,  partly  with  astonish 
ment,  and  partly  to  view  more  perfectly  the  first 
person  who  had  ever  mistaken  him  for  any  one 
else  than  the  veritable  host.  But  the  warlike  gen 
tleman  repeated  the  inquiry  with  somewhat  more 
of  fierceness,  and  Mynheer,  in  as  mild  a  manner  as 
possible,  replied, 

"Veil,  if  so  be  as  you  never  did  see  Gotlieb 


PAUL    REDDING. 


I 
OF   THE 

UNITIES  I1] 


Speckuncrout,  (here  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the  ceil 
ing,  to  pray  all  the  saints  in  his  calendar  to  forgive 
the  warlike  gentleman  for  the  oversight,)  "  I  say,  if 
so  be  as  you  never  did  see  Gotlieb  Speckuncrout, 
vy  just  step  this  vay."  He  walked  towards  the 
door,  and  the  gentleman  followed  rather  hesitat 
ingly,  looking  all  the  time  as  though  he  would  like 
a  brace  of  just  such  bipeds,  with  or  without  trim 
mings,  for  dinner.  Although  Mynheer's  feelings 
were  outraged,  he,  good-naturedly  as  possible, 
directed  the  warlike  gentleman  to  observe  the  sign 
board.  The  son  of  Mars  drew  an  eye-glass  from 
his  pocket,  and  gazed  through  it  toward  the  above- 
named  object.  He  dropped  his  eyes  several  times 
from  the  picture  to  the  original,  thereby  acknowl 
edging  the  likeness.  Mynheer's  triumph  was  com 
plete,  and  he  exclaimed,  "  Veil,  you  see  that 's  me, 
—  me !  — Gotlieb  Speckuncrout — yaw !  And  mine 
frau,  ven  she  first  saw  der  pictur,  she  said — " 

"  Sir ! "  growled  the  warlike  gentleman  in  a 
voice  of  thunder,  —  "Sir!  is  this  the  only  public 
house  in  this  place  ?  "  That  last  interrogation  was 
the  very  acme  of  insults.  Mynheer  looked  first 
with  amazement  all  around,  then  at  himself  up  and 
down,  and  then  at  the  door  very  compassionately, 
for  he  knew  that  it  must  feel  bad.  At  last,  shading 
his  eyes  with  his  hand,  he  looked  far  down  the 
village,  and  with  great  determination  he  replied, 

"There  is  another  house  down  der  village, — 
but — Gotlieb  Speckuncrout  vas  never  the  man  to 


22  PAUL     REDDING. 

say  any  thing  against  his  neighbors,  no !  But  den 
I  have  been  told  by  dem  as  have  slept  there,  that 
they  always  vas  troubled  with  some  kind  o'  an'mals 
ven  they  vent  to  bed ;  —  but  I  never  says  any  thing 
against  my  neighbors,  no !  P'raps  dern  an'mal 
vas  the  night- mare,  and  p'raps  they  vasn't  —  I 
doesn't  pretend  to  say  —  I  never  says  nothing 
against  my  neighbors,  no  !  "  Thereupon  the  war 
like  gentleman  walked  into  the  Half-way  House, 
registered  his  name,  and  retired  to  await  the  com 
ing  of  his  dinner. 

On  the  tenth  of  September  there  was  a  stranger's 
name  registered  at  the  Half-way  House  ;  —  for,  be 
it  known,  that  at  a  country  inn  every  man  and  boy 
in  the  town  scrawls  his  autograph  in  the  dirty  book 
that  always  occupies  one  end  of  the  little  counter  at 
the  bar.  There  you  may  find  the  ostler's  name, 
looking  for  all  the  world  like  a  very  long  animal, 
with  a  great  many  straggling  legs,  running  off  of 
the  page,  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees.  There, 
too,  you  may  find  a  page  where  the  writing-master 
has  displayed  his  immense  skill  in  drawing  eagles, 
and  very  top-heavy  goose  quills,  ready  made  into 
pens,  writing  all  of  their  own  accord.  Yes,  on 
the  tenth  of  September,  the  warlike  gentleman 
turned  to  a  new,  clean  place,  and  wrote  in  large 
fierce  letters,  "  Captain  Courtly  Cutlass,  of  the 
king's  service."  That  autograph  was  a  bright 
ornament  to  the  register,  and,  in  the  eyes  of  Myn 
heer,  the  leaf  that  held  that  name  was  forever 
afterward  sacred. 


PAUL     REDDING.  23 

When  the  stage-coach  arrives  at  a  village,  there 
are  always  a  number  of  persons  ready  to  run  and 
see  who  gets  out  or  who  gets  in;  but  there  are 
others,  again,  who  will  not  mingle  with  what  they 
deem  the  vulgar  people,  (for  the  pettiest  town  has 
its  aristocracy,)  but  who,  after  common  curiosity 
is  gratified,  walk  leisurely  past  the  inn,  call  as  they 
return,  as  though  it  were  the  merest  accident  in 
the  world.  Such  a  person  was  the  Hon.  Timothy 
Littleworth,  the  only  justice  of  the  peace  in  the 
village,  and,  for  one  term,  a  senator  to  the  State 
legislature  from  that  place.  This  gentleman  must 
have  been  some  fifty  years  of  age ;  his  person  was 
not  over-comely  to  look  upon;  he  affected  a  sort  of 
neglige  in  his  dress,  a  very  common  custom  with 
men  of  genius.  Was  it  because  Mr.  Littleworth's 
gigantic  intellect  towered  above  all  considerations 
of  dress,  that  he  thus  neglected  his  outward  appear 
ance  ?  To  be  sure  it  was !  Think  you  that  a 
politician  ever  thought  of  wearing  shabby  clothes, 
merely  to  gain  votes  with  the  poorer  classes,  at  the 
same  time  to  insinuate  himself  into  the  favor  of  the 
rich  by  appearing  independent  ?  The  very  thought 
is  slander!  But  the  Hon.  Timothy  Littleworth, 
member  of  the  Harrisburg  senate,  and  justice  of  the 
peace,  was  often  complimented  by  being  told  that 
he  was  the  very  counterpart  of  Napoleon,  and  Mr. 
Littleworth's  conscience  forbade  him  to  commit  the 
unpardonable  sin  of  denying  truth,  even  when 
modesty  prompted  him  to  the  act.  Who  that  ever 


24  PAUL    REDDING. 

saw  Mr.  Timothy  Littleworth,  standing  by  the  fish 
pond  in  his  garden,  with  his  arms  folded  over  his 
breast,  his  right  foot  protruded  somewhat  in  ad 
vance  of  his  left,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  tiny 
ocean,  perhaps  contemplating  a  frog,  who,  I  say, 
that  ever  beheld  Mr.  Littleworth  in  such  a  position, 
but  was  strongly  reminded  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte 
on  the  island  of  St.  Helena  ?  Such  was  the  gentle 
man,  who,  at  four  o'clock,  p.  M.,  stepped  into  the 
bar-room  of  the  Half-way  House. 

Mynheer  Speckencrout  was  not  a  partizan  of  Mr. 
Littleworth,  and  as  he  set  a  decanter,  containing  a 
deeply-colored  fluid,  on  the  bar  before  that  honora 
ble  gentleman,  he  observed, 

"  Meister  Leetlevort,  my  friend,  I  vill  drink  your 
good  health  ;  yaw,  I  vill  vish  you  may  be  guf 'ner, 
because  you  decided  de  case  of  de  brindle  cow  in 
my  favor."  Mr.  Littleworth's  countenance  lit  up 
amazingly.  "  But,"  continued  Mynheer,  "  I  have 
something  just  here,  (Mr.  Speckencrout  placed1  his 
hand  as  he  spoke,  about  on  the  tenth  button  from 
the  top  of  his  waistcoat,)  I  have  something  just 
here  as  tells  me  I  can 't  fote  for  you,  yaw  !  "  Mr. 
Littleworth  looked  at  the  host  for  a  moment  re 
proachfully  ;  but  glancing  at  the  glass  in  his  hand, 
his  countenance  relaxed  into  a  smile  of  forgiveness, 
he  raised  the  liquor  to  his  lips,  and  contemplated 
Mynheer  for  several  moments  through  the  bottom 
of  the  tumbler.  "  No !  "  ejaculated  the  host,  as  he 
set  his  glass  down  on  the  counter  with  considerable 


PAUL     REDDING.  25 

emphasis  ;  "  No,  Johannes  Clitersnider  is  the  man, 
yaw ! " 

Mr.  Littleworth  no  sooner  heard  the  name  of  his 
opponent  than  he  poured  the  remains  of  the  liquor 
precipitously  down  his  throat,  and  putting  aside  his 
glass,  thrust  his  hands  with  alarming  determination 
into  the  skirt  pockets  of  his  coat,  and  gave  vent  to 
a  groan  that  seemed  to  come  from  the  very  depths 
of  his  shoes,  accompanied  with  the  exclamation  of, 

"  A  tailor !  " 

"  Yaw  !  "  reiterated  Gotlieb,  as  he  turned  to  fill 
his  pipe,  "  and  vhat  if  Johannes  Clitersnider  is  a 
tailor  ?  Der  man  as  fits  me  mit  a  coat,  can  fit  me 
mit  law  —  yaw,  dats  vat  I  tink." 

Mr.  Littleworth's  feelings  as  a  man,  as  a  citizen, 
as  a  statesman,  and  as  a  patriot,  were  too  much 
outraged  to  permit  him  to  make  any  reply.  He 
took  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  the  box  on  the  counter, 
drew  it  up  his  proboscis  in  a  most  desperate  man 
ner,  coughed  vehemently,  and  sneezed  an  indefinite 
number  of  times.  His  eye  caught  the  glaring  name 
of  Captain  Courtly  Cutlass  on  the  register ;  and, 
putting  on  his  glasses  to  satisfy  himself  in  regard 
to  that  remarkable  autograph,  he  became  convinced 
that  it  was  no  ostentatious  flourish  of  Samuel  Spat 
ter,  the  writing-master.  He  left  his  card  for  the 
warlike  gentleman,  and  assuming  an  air  as  though 
he  had  done  one  of  the  most  condescending  things 
in  the  world,  took  his  leave  of  Mynheer  Gotlieb 
Speckencrout,  and  the  Half-way  House,  very  much 
2 


26  PAUL    REDDING. 

as  though  he  considered  it  a  painful  but  imperative 
duty  to  carry  away  that  vast  amount  of  greatness 
that  had  for  the  last  half  hour  shed  a  lustre  on  the 
most  inanimate  fixtures  of  the  bar-room. 


CHAPTER  III. 

His  air  was  wild  ;  and  he  did  stare  and  talk 
Of  things  uncouth  to  dream  of. 

WE  must  return  to  our  young  traveller.  The 
day  had  been  extremely  sultry,  such  a  one  as  is 
usually  the  precursor  of  a  thunder-storm.  The 
sun  had  not  yet  passed  behind  the  blue  hills  in  the 
distance,  when  a  big  black  cloud,  like  a  wrathful 
giant  with  flashing  eyes,  came  heavily  up  the  sky. 
The  winds,  that  had  all  day  slumbered  in  the 
vales,  now  leaped  from  their  velvet  couches,  and, 
as  though  suddenly  awakened  from  the  terrors 
of  a  dream,  ran  wildly  to  and  fro  ;  now  whirling 
the  dust  from  the  road  across  the  fields  ;  and  again 
slamming  the  shutter  in  the  very  face  of  a  roguish 
girl,  who  stood  laughing  at  a  traveller  that  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  forced  to  chase  his  hat  the  whole 
length  of  the  village ;  which  hat  ran  with  a  hop- 
skip-and-a-jump  along  the  road,  and  only  came  to 
a  halt  when  it  was  lodged  in  the  water-trough  in 
front  of  the  "  Half-way  House."  The  unfortunate 
traveller,  (and  we  are  loath  to  admit  the  fact,  since 
it  was  rather  an  unpoetical  situation  for  the  hero  of 


PAUL    REDDING.  27 

a  story,)  proved  to  be  Paul  Redding.  He  stepped 
into  the  bar-room,  and  dropping  a  bundle  in  the  cor 
ner,  drew  a  chair  to  the  window,  and  gazed  silently 
on  the  coming  storm.  A  cloud  as  dense  as  that 
which  filled  the  heaven,  had  hung,  and  still  con 
tinued  to  hang,  over  the  sky  that  should  rather  have 
smiled  than  frowned  upon  a  friendless  youth.  But 
the  heart  of  the  young  is  like  the  slender  stem  that 
bears  the  flower  ;  though  it  may  bend  to  the  storm  it 
rises  elastic  again  ;  it  is  only  the  stubborn  or  decayed 
branches  that  break  beneath  the  footsteps  of  mis 
fortune  ; 

"  The  flower,  she  touched  on,  dipt  and  rose, 
And  turned  to  look  at  her." 

What  though  Paul  could  look  to  no  protecting 
father,  no  sympathizing  mother  or  sister?  what 
though  there  was  no  bright  spot  on  earth  that  he 
could  call  '  home  ?  '  Still  there  was  a  light,  one 
bright  object  that  cheered  him  through  a  life  which 
lowered  so  forbiddingly  ;  and  that  bright  spot  was 
within  his  own  breast !  What  though  he  had  been 
cast  among  heartless  people  ?  still  was  he  triumph 
ant,  for  he  had  a  proud  heart. 

Paul  sat  musing,  but  not  gloomy;  though,  per 
haps,  somewhat  sad,  until  Mynheer  touched  him  on 
the  shoulder  and  asked  him  into  supper.  He  was 
seated  at  the  table  with  some  five  or  six  others, 
among  whom  was  a  tall  man,  who  boasted  a  very 
large  Roman  nose,  very  small  eyes  hid  behind 
a  pair  of  green  glasses,  and  a  very  cadaverous 


28  PAUL    REDDING. 

mouth;  these  features,  when  combined,  wore  an 
expression  of  self-satisfaction  mingled  with  a  large 
amount  of  sly  cunning,  and  even  the  green  glasses 
seemed  to  sympathize  with  the  changes  of  his  coun 
tenance.  After  looking  very  sharply  at  Paul  for  a 
moment,  he  exclaimed,  "  Well,  I  guess,  stranger, 
we  're  agoin'  to  have  some  rain  ; "  at  the  same  time 
putting  great  emphasis  on  the  adjective  "  some." 
Paul  ventured  to  reply  that  there  was  every  pros 
pect  of  a  shower. 

"  Prospect  of  a  shower ! "  repeated  the  gentle 
man  in  green  glasses,  "  I  tell  you  what,  my  juve 
nile  friend,  we  shall  have  some  rain  ;  "  putting  the 
emphasis  now  on  the  word  "rain."  The  landlord 
looked  at  the  youth,  as  much  as  to  say,  Is  n't  he 
a  wonderful  man,  to  be  sure  ?  Paul  betrayed  no 
astonishment  in  regard  to  the  matter  ;  but  applied 
himself  to  his  toast  and  tea.  The  gentleman  in 
green  glasses  was  evidently  uneasy  ;  he  kept  his 
eyes  on  the  pale  face  of  the  youth  without  even 
winking,  seeming  lost  in  conjecture.  He  sat  not 
long,  however,  in  that  mute  manner,  but,  as  if 
words  had  just  rushed  to  his  assistance,  he  ex 
claimed,  "  Well,  stranger,  —  you  see  I  have  to  call 
you  '  stranger,'  seeing  as  I  do  n't  know  your  name, 
you  know."  Here  the  gentleman  took  breath  a 
moment,  evidently  disappointed  when  the  young 
man  merely  nodded  his  head,  indicating  that  he  had 
no  objection  to  being  called  'stranger.'  "I  was 
a  goin'  to  say,"  continued  he,  "  that  you  came 


PAUL    REDDING.  29 

darned  near  being  caught,  for  just  see  how  like  all 
Jehu  it 's  rainin'.  The  clouds  is  pouring  out  their 
everlastin'  waters  on  the  parched  'arth,  while  all 
natur'  stands  with  her  mouth  stretched  from  ear  to 
ear,  ready  to  gulp  it  all  down.  Ah,  my  friend,  this 
is  a  beautiful  world  to  contemplate ;  yes,  sir,  it 's 
beautiful  to  hear  the  wind  smashin'  among  the  trees 
and  tearin'  about  as  though  it  was  taking  its  eternal 
blow !  It 's  beautiful  to  see  the  lightnin'  shootin' 
from  heaven  to  'arth  like  a  streak  of  wrath  ;  arid  to 
hear  the  thunder  roarin'  like  —  like — like  —  hem 
—  thunder  !  P'raps  you  've  walked  some  distance 
to-day,  stranger  ? "  Paul  answered  that  he  had 
travelled  some  miles. 

"  From  Lancaster  ?  "  continued  the  gentleman 
in  green  glasses. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  have  not  walked  so  far 
as  that ;"  and,  much  to  the  discomfort  of  the  gentle 
man  who  seemed  indefatigable  in  his  research  into 
other  people's  affairs,  Paul  finished  his  cup  of  tea 
and  left  the  table.  The  gentleman  in  green  glasses 
lost  his  appetite  immediately,  and  as  he  arose  from 
the  table  whispered  into  the  ear  of  the  host,  that 
the  person  who  had  just  stepped  out  was  an  origi 
nal  !  Mynheer  opened  his  eyes  to  their  fullest 
extent,  and  exclaimed,  "  No  !  " 

"  Yes!  "  reiterated  the  other. 

"  Veil,  I  never  !  "  said  the  host. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  gentleman  in  green  glasses 
again,  giving  Mynheer  a  very  significant  wink,  as  he 


30  PAUL     REDDING. 

made  his  way  to  the  bar-room.  For  a  few  mo 
ments  he  stood  by  the  window  contemplating  the 
storm;  but  as  if  the  last  flash  of  lightning  had 
struck  him  with  a  new  idea,  he  exclaimed, 

"I  say,  stranger,  p'raps  you  hav'nt  writ  your 
name  in  that  ere  book,  have  you  ? "  pointing,  as  he 
spoke,  to  the  register.  Paul  answered  in  the  nega 
tive.  "  Well,  I  didn't  say  you  had,  you  know;" 
and  the  inquisitive  gentleman  opened  the  volume 
that  laid  on  the  counter.  His  eye  wandered  rapidly 
from  page  to  page,  until,  at  last,  it  felt  upon  the 
name  of  Captain  Courtly  Cutlass,  his  first  astonish 
ment  found  vent  in  a  long-drawn  whistle;  but  when 
he  had  examined  each  particular  flourish,  he  drew 
himself  up  to  his  fullest  height,  and,  assuming  an 
air  of  great  severity  and  determination,  requested 
the  landlord  to  pass  him  a  glass  of  something,  at 
the  same  time  to  furnish  pen  and  ink. 

"  If  I  can't  beat,"  he  exclaimed,  "  all  creation  at 
this  'ere  business,"  (meaning  the  business  of  in 
diting  autographs,)  "  my  name  's  not  Sam  Spatter, 
that 's  all !  "  He  disposed  of  the  liquor  in  the 
shortest  possible  time,  and  observed  that  he  never 
made  mince  meat  of  trifles,  he  did  n't !  After  try 
ing  the  quality  of  his  pen  some  five  or  six  times,  he 
made  sundry  flourishes  in  the  air,  and  worked  the 
quill  round  and  round  until  it  converged  to  a  par 
ticular  spot  on  the  paper,  when  he  branched  off 
into  very  heavy  strokes  for  the  capitals,  and  very 
fine  hair  lines  for  the  small  letters.  '  Mr.  Spatter's 


PAUL     REDDING.  31 

whole  body  labored.  His  head  turned  slowly  from 
side  to  side  ;  his  mouth,  too,  kept  in  motion,  as  if 
chewing  the  English  language  into  the  most  con 
venient  shape  for  use. 

"  There ! "  cried  Mr.  Spatter,  when  he  had 
finished,  bringing  his  hand  on  his  knee  with  a  tre 
mendous  slap ;  "  there,  blast  the  brass  buttons  off 
my  great  grandfather's  old  blue  coat,  if  that  'ere 
do  n't  take  the  shine  off  of '  Captain  Cutlass,'  then  I 
do  n't  know  molasses  and  water  from  the  best  of 
brandy,  and  it's  my  private  opinion  I  could  tell 
either  on  'em  in  the  dark,  and  that 's  a  fact." 

"  Yaw,"  said  Mynheer,  (perfectly  convinced  of 
the  truth  of  the  last  part  of  the  assertion,)  as  he 
laid  the  book  aside. 

"  Hallo !  "  cried  Mr.  Spatter,  in  a  tone  that 
started  both  Mynheer  and  the  youth.  "  Hallo ! 
what 's  that  ?  " 

"  Vat 's  vat?  "  reiterated  the  landlord. 

"  The  devil 's  at  that  'ere  winder,  or  I  'm  no 
judge ! "  answered  the  other.  The  Dutchman 
staggered  into  the  farthest  corner  of  the  bar,  per 
fectly  terrified ;  and  Paul  Redding,  not  wishing  to 
be  quartered  so  near  the  "  old  gentleman,"  retreated 
across  the  room.  "  There  he  is  !  "  contined  Mr. 
Spatter,  "  do  n't  you  see  his  eyes  ?  O  dear,  how 
they  do  strike  fire.  Go  way,  you  varmint !  — 
There  —  there,  he's  coming  in!  why  don't  you  do 
something,  somebody  ?  He 's  getting  in  at  the 
winder ! "  The  devil,  as  Mr.  Spatter  called  the 
stranger,  proved  to  be  the  same  wild  person  that 


32  PAUL     REDDING. 

Paul  had  encountered  in  the  afternoon.  His  fierce 
black  eyes,  for  a  moment,  rested  on  the  gentleman 
in  green  glasses,  and  he  exclaimed,  "  Bring  me  a 
glass  ! " 

"Sartin,  sartin,"  said  Mr.  Spatter,  "  it's  shockin' 
dry  weather  down  your  way, I  reckon  !  what'll  you 
have  ?  " 

"  A  looking-glass ! "  said  the  stranger. 

"  What  on  'arth  do  you  want  to  see  in  a  lookin'- 
glass  ? " 

"  The  devil !  "  cried  the  fearful-looking  man  with 
a  shudder. 

u  I  told  you  so,  Mynheer  !  I  told  you  so,  young 
man ;  he  wants  to  see  himself !  There  's  a  glass 
hanging  there  ;  but  you  aint  so  handsome  as  to  be 
vain  in  your  old  days !  O,  you  need  n't  pull  my 
coat  in  that  way,  Speck,  'cause  I  aint  afeared  of  the 
old  'un,  I  aint !  Bat  I  say  do  n't  you  smell  some 
thing  like  brimstone  ;  kind  of  blue  blazes  like,  eh  ? 
But  see  the  crittur  !  how  he  's  shakin'  himself!  and 
now  he  's  talkin'  to  his  shadow  in  the  glass !  Wait 
a  minute,  till  I  speak  to  him,  though.  Hem,  —  the 
brimstone  kind  of  chokes  one  —  hem  —  I  say,  my 
good  friend  —  O,  he  likes  to  be  called  good,  the 
devil  does ;  there  's  a  tender  spot  on  all  kinds  of 
animals  ;  tickle  a  bear  and  it  won't  eat  you  if  it's 
never  so  hungry  ;  so  I  '11  jest  rub  in  a  slice  to  kind 
of  civilize  the  old  'un.  I  say,  my  good  friend,  a 
rain  like  this  takes  the  curls  out  of  one's  hair 
properly,  doesn't  it?  It  melts  a  leetle  o'  the 
stiffnin'  out  o'  the  best-lookin'  on  us,  I  guess." 


PAUL     REDDING.  33 

"  There  he  is,  there,  there  !  do  n't  you  see  him  ?  " 
exclaimed  the  mysterious  man,  pointing  over  his 
left  shoulder. 

"  Who  ?  "  cried  Mr.  Spatter. 

"  The  devil !  0,  he 's  an  ugly  devil !  Do  n't  you 
see  him  ?  look  !  Do  drive  him  away !  There  he 
is,  there,  at  the  other  shoulder!  Drive  him  away, 
drive  him  away  !  Nobody  drives  him  away ! " 
And  the  poor  man  ran  backwards  until  he  struck 
the  wall ;  and  then  he  laughed  loud  and  fearfully. 
But  his  wild,  terrible  mirth,  soon  subsided  into  a 
low  "  he,  he,"  and  gazing  on  his  hands,  his  black 
eyes  sparkled  with  delight.  "  There,"  said  he,  as 
if  he  were  talking  to  some  one  at  his  side,  "  there, 
see  how  the  little  fellows  do  caper,  ho,  ho  !  twenty 
little  devils  play  at  leap  frog,  how  they  jump  from 
one  hand  to  another !  But  see  !  ho,  ho !  the  whole 
twenty  are  but  two !  only  two  devils  out  of  twenty, 
he,  he !  stop,  look  at  them,  one  is  an  old  man, 
and  one  is  a  young  man ;  the  old  man  lies  down  to 
sleep  —  the  young  man  draws  a  dagger  —  see,  he 
creeps  up,  look !  he  stabs  him  —  robs  him  !  avaunt, 
avaunt !  I'll  see  no  more!"  The  poor  man 
trembled,  his  countenance  was  distorted  with  ter 
ror;  he  shook  his  hands  wildly  in  the  air,  and 
then  thrust  them  into  the  breast  of  his  coat. 

"I'll  speak  to  him,"  said  Paul,  "I'll  speak  to 
him  kindly,  poor  man.  Don't  be  frightened,  friend, 
there  is  nothing  here  to  hurt  you ;  come  sit  down 
and  be  calm,  do  !  "  The  stranger's  countenance, 


34  PAUL     REDDING. 

as  his  eye  fell  on  the  speaker,  settled  into  an 
expression  of  wonder,  and  his  answer  was  a  long- 
drawn  "  e-h  ?  "  partly  indicating  that  he  had  seen 
the  face  before,  and  partly  interrogatory. 

"  Come,  sit  down,"  continued  Paul. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  "  said  the  stranger,  in  a 
low  tone  of  voice.  Paul  hesitated  until  he  saw  the 
big  tears  standing  in  the  stranger's  eyes,  and  he 
answered,  "  Paul  Redding." 

"I  thought  so,  I  thought  so!  come  near — let 
me  look  at  you  —  yes,  your  name  is  Paul  Red 
ding  ! "  and  the  man  hid  his  face  in  his  hands 
and  wept.  Paul  turned  away  deeply  affected.  Mr. 
Spatter  and  the  host  looked  on  in  mute  astonish 
ment.  The  mysterious  stranger  wiped  his  eyes 
hurriedly,  and  casting  a  wild  glance  around  the 
room,  rushed  out  of  the  door  into  the  storm  again, 
which  raged  on  with  unabated  fury.  When  Paul 
retired  to  his  room,  that  night,  he  sat  down  on  the 
side  of  the  bed,  in  deep  meditation.  "  How  odd," 
thought  he ;  "  why  did  I  feel  so  much  interest  in  a 
stranger?  And  why  did  he  act  so  strangely  in  re 
gard  to  me  ?  I  am  amazed  that  he  should  have 
recognised  me ;  I  cannot  remember  of  ever  having 
seen  the  man  before;  and  yet,  there  was  some 
thing  in  his  countenance  that  seemed  familiar ; 
something  that  I  have  either  dreamed  of  or  seen 
long,  long  ago.  Poor  man,  how  I  pity  him !  some 
thing  may  happen  to  him  in  such  a  dark,  stormy 
night  as  this.  The  river  is  swollen,  I  can  hear  it 


PAUL     REDDING.  35 

roaring  even  from  here.  I  wish  that  I  knew  where 
to  find — Hark!  somebody's  at  the  door!  who's 
there  ?  "  "  Paul,  Paul,"  said  a  low  voice,  "  open 
the  door,  don't  be  afraid."  The  young  man  at 
once  recognised  the  voice,  and  immediately  ad 
mitted  the  mysterious  stranger.  "  I  am  glad  that 
you  have  come,"  said  Paul,  "  very  glad  ;  you  shall 
sleep  in  my  bed  to-night,  and  I  will  sit  by  and 
watch  you."  "  Good  boy,  good  boy !  but  I  never 
sleep  at  night — the  devil  won't  let  me.  There, 
I  '11  lean  against  the  wall ;  this  is  the  only  way  that 
I  can  rest  at  night.  I  do  n't  fear  those  ugly  little 
imps  that  dance  before  my  eyes,  no,  no!  but  it's 
that  ugly,  ugly  fellow  that  sits  on  my  back  looking 
over  my  shoulder  into  my  face.  Sometimes  an 
old  man  stands  behind  me,  his  long,  white  locks 
all  matted  with  blood,  and  skinny  finger  pointing  to 
a  deep  gash  in  his  throat!  O  !  "  The  stranger  hid 
his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned.  "  Do  be  calm !  " 
said  Paul,  imploringly,  "  do  be  calm ;  there  is 
nothing  here  at  all  like  what  you  describe,  indeed 
there  is  not !  " 

"  You  can't  see  them,"  said  the  poor  man ; 
"  no,  you  are  innocent,  young,  and  happy,  and  they 
all  fly  into  my  brain  when  you  come  near !  Yes, 
they  are  in  my  brain,  here,  here,  where,  years  ago, 
they  built  a  big  fire  that  still  keeps  burning,  burn 
ing,  burning  !  But  I  won't  frighten  you,  no,  no,  I 
won't.  Your  name  is  Paul  Redding  —  I  know  it  is. 
I  have  the  papers  here ;  but,  let  me  see ;  no,  that 


36  PAUL     REDDING. 

must  not  be  yet.  The  time  has  not  yet  come  —  we 
shall  meet  again.  Paul,  forgive  me  —  I  forgot — 
we  shall  meet  again ;  then,  perhaps,  you  will  know. 
No  matter.  They  call  me  Fiery  Fitful ;  remem 
ber  that.  It  is  a  nickname  ;  perhaps  I  deserve  it. 
Well,  no  matter.  Paul,  farewell ;  give  me  your 
hand  —  no,  no  !  don't !  I  forgot — farewell,  Paul, 
farewell."  The  strange  man  hurried  away,  leaving 
the  youth  perfectly  bewildered. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

"  Seven  daughters  had  Lord  Archibald, 
All  children  of  one  mother." 

WORDSWORTH. 

ON  the  following  morning,  the  warlike  gentleman 
sallied  forth  to  view  the  beautiful,  though  rather 
muddy  village,  and  to  pay  his  respects  to  the  im 
portant  personage,  who  had  sent  him  his  card  on 
the  previous  evening.  Mr.  Littleworth  was  at  home 
to  the  warlike  gentleman,  and  was  delighted  to  em 
brace  the  opportunity  of  making  the  acquaintance 
of  so  distinguished  an  individual,  although  he,  to 
speak  truth,  had  never  heard  of  the  warlike  gentle 
man  before.  However,  that  was  nothing;  the 
captain's  name  was  a  sufficient  guarantee  of  his 
nobility.  Mr.  Littleworth  loved  any  thing  that 
smacked  of  aristocracy,  notwithstanding  his  declara 
tions  about  his  thorough  democracy  to  his  con- 


PAUL     REDDING.  37 

stituents.  He  claimed  some  of  the  first  men  who 
have  ever  lived  as  his  ancestors,  and  should  any 
one  require  it,  he  could  trace  his  genealogy  back, 
almost,  if  not  quite,  as  far  as  to  the  greatest  man  of 
his  time,  namely,  Noah.  Mrs.  Timothy  Little- 
worth  was,  in  every  way,  her  husband's  equal,  not 
even  excepting  in  size  of  body.  In  fact,  Mr.  Little- 
worth  looked  upon  her  as  the  most  astonishing 
woman  in  the  country.  He  would  frequently  say 
that  Mrs.  L.'s  beauty  was  not  alone  comprised  in 
her  face  and  form  ;  but  her  intellect  was  equally 
gigantic  and  beautiful.  Besides,  she  was  born  in 
France,  and  being  a  very  distant  relative  to  Napo 
leon,  he  felt  that  he  was  not  going  too  far,  when 
he  acknowledged  that  he  held  her  in  divine  admira 
tion.  She  conversed  in  English  quite  as  well  as  in 
French,  and  in  Italian  quite  as  well  as  either.  In 
truth,  she  spoke  all  of  the  useful  languages  beauti 
fully,  giving  the  accent  of  each  to  perfection.  And 
his  daughters,  too  ;  their  mother  had  taught  them 
the  different  languages.  He  was  happy  to  say  that 
they  promised  to  equal,  in  every  way,  their  more 
than  talented  parent.  Mr.  Littleworth  had  no  less 
than  seven  daughters,  averaging  from  two  to  sixteen 
years  of  age.  Mr.  L.  left  the  warlike  gentleman 
to  amuse  himself  with  the  books  and  prints,  while 
he  hurried  to  the  nursery  to  inform  his  precocious 
daughters,  that  a  very  great  man  was  to  dine  there, 
and  they  must  each  try  and  improve  by  his  ex 
ample —  they  must  watch  him  closely  at  table, 
and  imitate  all  of  his  graces. 


38  PAUL     REDDING. 

"  Remember,  my  daughters,"  he  said,  "  remem 
ber,  and  be  an  ornament  to  your  papa,  and  an 
honor  to  your  mamma.  You,  Napoleana,  be  very 
proper ;  there  's  no  knowing  what  may  grow  out  of 
a  very  small  circumstance.  It  has  always  been 
your  papa's  saying,  my  dears,  that  great  events 
turn  on  remarkably  small  pivots.  And  you, 
Josephine,  Maria  Louisa,  Austerlitziana,  Lodina, 
Elbaena,  and  my  sweet  little  Helena,  you  are  to  sit 
at  the  table  with  a  nobleman !  Just  think  of  it ! 
Do  remember,  and  be  very  proper." 

"  Oh  yes,  papa  !  " 

"And  remember,  Napoleana,  if  he  addresses 
you  in  French,  answer  the  gentleman  promptly  and 
sweetly  as  possible,  for,  as  your  papa  has  said 
before,  there  's  no  knowing  what  may  grow  out  of 
a  small  circumstance." 

The  daughter  addressed  replied  "  we,  papa,"  and 
"  we,  papa  "  passed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  like  the 
running  of  the  upper  octave  of  a  flute,  the  last  little 
note  winding  off  with  a  very  sharp  screech.  Ah  ! 
that  was  a  proud  time  for  Mr.  Littleworth.  "  Cap 
tain,"  said  he,  as  he  entered  the  parlor  again,  "  I 
trust  that  you  have  been  amused.  Here  are  some 
of  the  first  engravings  of  the  age  ;  but  it  is  needless, 
however,  that  I  should  tell  a  gentleman  of  your 
taste  such  a  thing.  These  are  all  English  prints. 
There,  sir,  that  is  a  likeness  of  George  the  Fourth, 
if  you  have  never  seen  his  likeness.  Oh  !  I  ask 
your  pardon,  you  have  seen  it  then,  in  London. 


PAUL     REDDING.  39 

Large  city  that  London  !  I  correspond  with  several 
of  the  greatest  men  of  that  metropolis.  Here  is  a 
likeness  of  Scott  —  quite  a  clever  man  —  English 
I  mean.  Oh  !  ah  !  you  've  seen  that  before.  But 
here,  sir,  here  —  this  picture  —  did  you  observe 
this  ?  It  is  a  picture  of  Napoleon  crossing  the 
Alps,  executed  by  David,  pronounced  Dah-vede  in 
French.  Yes,  I  presumed  you  knew  the  fact,  but 
all  do  not !  Ah !  sir,  I  pray  you  think  nothing  of 
my  weakness,  excuse  it  —  but  I  never  look  upon 
this  picture  of  Bonaparte,  on  the  island  of  St. 
Helena,  without  dropping  a  tear  to  his  memory. 
You  may  think  this  weakness  —  yes,  I  knew  you 
would — well,  then,  sir,  for  your  sake  I  will  not 
contemplate  that  picture  at  present.  Here,  sir,  if 
you  are  fond  of  wit,  here  are  the  works  of  the 
greatest  humorist  of  his  age.  There,  take  a  seat, 
you  can't  understand  them  in  a  moment,  they  are 
so  far  in  advance  of  the  age  !  They  are  generally 
political  pieces,  hits  at  the  administration.  You 
will  not  understand  them  —  allow  me  to  explain. 
Ah  !  here  on  the  first  page  we  have  the  likeness  of 
the  artist  himself,  Christopher  Scrapp,  Esq. ;  fine 
intellectual  face  that ;  the  small  twinkling  eye  in 
dicative  of  wit ;  how  expressive  the  nose  is,  turned 
slightly  up,  showing  his  sneering  disposition  to  a 
charm.  Were  it  not  for  the  hair,  sir,  you  would 
observe  what  a  forehead  he  has.  I  advised  Mr. 
Scrapp  to  have  it  shaved,  a  thing  frequently  done. 
He  writes  me  in  his  last  letter  that  he  has  followed 


40  PAUL     REDDING. 

the  suggestion,  and  thanks  me  for  the  advice.  He 
is  a  wonderful  man.  By  the  way,  I  will  give  you 
his  address ;  mention  my  name,  that  will  be  sufficient. 
Observe  that  figure;  you  do  n't  understand  it,  I  pre 
sume  not,  but,  sir,  that  picture  produced  an  alarm 
ing  excitement.  It  represents  a  figure  standing  on 
its  head  ;  there  are  the  two  legs  up  in  the  air ;  the 
feet  are  rather  large,  but  that  is  a  part  of  Mr. 
Scrapp's  style,  one  of  his  peculiarities.  The  figure 
is  allegorical ;  it  represents  the  present  condition  of 
the  administration  ;  capital !  is  n't  it  ?  That  book, 
sir,  has  done  more  for  my  cause  in  this  town  than 
you  could  imagine.  Those  spirited  satires,  sir, 
when  I  held  them  up  to  the  people,  and  gave  them 
the  proper  explanations,  the  effect  was  miraculous  ; 
unlike  other  senseless  satires,  they  were  not  laughed 
at.  No  !  there  is  too  much  truth,  sir,  and  whenever 
I  presented  them,  a  solemn  silence  pervaded  the 
spectators.  I  have  the  greatest  admiration  for  the 
genius  of  my  friend  Scrapp.  His  illustrations  of 
Mother  Goose  give  general  satisfaction  among  the 
smaller  members  of  my  family.  Ah !  yes  sir,  I 
look  upon  this  artist  as  one  of  the  greatest  benefac 
tors  of  his  age,  if  in  nothing  else  than  amusing  les 
enfans" 

In  this  manner  did  Mr.  Timothy  Littleworth 
entertain  his  distinguished  visiter  until  the  dinner- 
hour,  when  he  conducted  the  captain  into  the 
dining-room,  where  was  presented  a  formidable 
array  of  young  Littleworths,  each  having  her  hair 


PAUL     REDDING.  41 

done  into  two  long  stiff  braids,  tied  over  with  any 
quantity  of  blue  ribbon,  arranged  into  very  system 
atic  bow-knots. 

"Allow  me  to  introduce  my  daughters.  Miss 
Napoleana,  Captain  Cutlass ;  Josephine,  Maria 
Louisa,  Austerlitziana,  Lodina,  and  these  two  are 
the  youngest,  Elbaena  and  Helena.  Be  seated, 
captain,  there,  if  you  please,  opposite  my  eldest. 
Ah !  here  comes  madam.  Madam  Littleworth, 
Captain  Cutlass."  Now  the  lady  L.  was  enormous 
ly  fat,  and  as  she  waddled  into  the  room,  her 
appearance  was  almost  too  much  for  the  rigid 
risibilities  of  the  warlike  gentleman.  She  bowed, 
for  who  ever  saw  a  fat  woman  courtesy  ?  No  one, 
I  imagine  —  in  fact,  it  would  be  hazardous. 

"Bon  apres  —  midi — Monsieur,"  said  the  lady, 
taking  a  seat  next  to  her  husband. 

"  I  am  vere  mush  glad  to  have  ze  pleasure,  oui. 
You  are  in  ze  —  ze  —  armee  ?  "  The  captain 
bowed,  and  the  young  ladies  bowed. 

"  You  have  been  in  ze  battle,  eh,  Monsieur  ?  " 
The  warlike  gentleman  coughed,  and  replied  that  it 
was  warm,  oppressively  so. 

"  Oui,  oui, — you  have  been  in  oppressive  warm 
battle  !  Vere  you  ever  shot  ?  " 

"  Hem !  no,  not  exactly  shot,  that  is,  slightly 
wounded." 

"  Indeed  !     Where  ?  " 

"Ah!  hem!  it  happened  in  a — a — vessel, 
madam  —  a  sea  engagement." 


42  PAUL     REDDING. 

"  Oh  !  possible  ?  in  ze  blood  vessel  ?  " 

"  Oh !  ah !  yes,  rather  a  bloody  vessel,  just  at 
that  time." 

"  But  where  is  ze  wound  ?  Do  let  me  see  ze 
wound." 

The  captain  was  confused,  and  could  make  no 
reply  for  some  time.  At  last  he  observed,  that  the 
wound  could  not  be  discerned  very  easily. 

"  My  daughters  ! "  whispered  Mr.  Littleworth, 
shaking  his  head  and  frowning  forbiddingly, "  hush ! " 

"  The  fact  is,  madam,"  continued  the  warlike 
gentleman — "The  fact  is,  a  confounded  piece  of 
lead  came  very  abruptly  just  across  my  chin,  and 
dislocated  several  individual  members  of  my  im 
perial  ;  a  very  serious  loss,  I  assure  you." 

"Ah !  captain,"  continued  Mrs.  Littleworth,  as 
she  emptied  a  dish  of  chicken  salad  on  her  plate ; 
"  Come,  captain,  tell  some  more  about  ze  war,  just 
to  amuse  ze  daughters,  do." 

"  Oh,  do,  do,  do  !  "  cried  two  or  three  of  the 
young  Littleworths. 

"  My  children,  be  silent !  "  said  Mr.  L.,  firmly. 
"  Elbaena,  my  daughter,  take  that  soup  dish  off  of 
your  head  ;  papa  will  you  send  right  away  from  the 
table.  Helena,  dear,  take  her  fingers  out  of  the 
butter-plate  ;  she  should  n't  do  so,  pet." 

"A  battle  is  a  very  dreadful  thing,"  said  the 
captain,  wiping  the  moisture  frpm  his  mustaches. 
"A  very  dreadful  thing.  You  Americans  know 
nothing  of  the  horrors  of  war,  nothing.  I  hope  you 
will  not.  War  is  a  dreadful  thing." 


PAUL     REDDING.  43 

"  Oui  —  oui — so  I  tink,  so  I  have  tell  my  hus 
band  one,  three,  several  times.  He  sail  nevare  go 
to  war.  Eh,  mon  cher  ?  " 

"  Yes,  frequently,  my  dear.  Ah !  she  is  very 
affectionate  —  always  in  this  beautiful  serene  spirit 
of  tenderness  that  you  now  behold  her  in.  Oh, 
is  n't  it  delightful  ?  " 

"  Exceedingly." 

"  Napoleon  was  a  vere  great  war-man,  captain, 
eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  clever." 

"A  vere  great  war-man,  I  say  !  " 

"  Circumstances,  you  know,  did  every  thing  for 
him." 

"  I  do  n't  know  ze  man  Circumstanz,  but  I  nevare 
tink  of  Waterloo  wizout  saying,  Mon  Dieu —  ! " 

"  Oh,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  L. 

"  Yes,  you  know,  husband,  ve  hot  hate  dem 
Englishmen  like  ze  —  " 

"Hush  — sh  — sh!" 

"  Vot  for  hush  ?  Do  n't  tell  me  hush  !  I  nevare 
was  told  hush  !  —  I  love  my  country,  and  hate  ze 
English  like,  like  —  " 

"  Madam,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  look  upon  Napo 
leon  as  the  greatest  curse  that  ever  fell  upon  the 
world  ! " 

"  Sare,  you  are  not  gentleman  !  "  screamed  Mrs. 
Littleworth,  coloring  deeply  up  to  the  very  edges 
of  her  wig,  and  as  much  farther  as  you  may  choose 
to  imagine.  "  You  are  von  grand  coward  !  " 


44  PAUL     REDDING. 

"  Was  it  to  be  insulted,  madam,  that  I  permitted 
my  person  to  grace  your  table  ?  "  exclaimed  the 
warlike  gentleman,  rising. 

"  Grace  MY  table  !     You  are  disgrace,  sare  !  " 

"  I  '11  not  be  insulted  !  Mr.  Littleworth,  you 
shall  answer  for  this.  We  gentlemen  of  standing 
always  go  prepared  to  repel  injury  —  remember 
that !  "  roared  the  captain. 

"  Mrs.  Littleworth,  Oh !  Mrs.  Littleworth,  you  will 
be  my  ruin  !  "  exclaimed  the  trembling  husband. 

"  Ha  !  such  words  to  me  ! "  screamed  the  lady 
at  the  top  of  her  voice,  "  Ha  !  ha  !  "  The  three 
youngest  Littleworths  caught  up  the  scream  of  the 
infuriated  mother,  and  clenching  their  little  fists,  at 
arms'  length,  and  shutting  their  eyes  very  tight, 
prolonged  it. 

"  I  '11  do  something  dreadful,  Mr.  Littleworth ! 
I  '11  be  the  death  of  you  !  "  cried  the  warlike  gen 
tleman,  as  he  left  the  apartment.  It  was  in  vain 
that  Mr.  Littleworth  followed  him  to  the  door,  and 
implored  his  pardon  ;  for  the  warlike  gentleman 
was  neither  butter  nor  sugar,  and  therefore  would 
not  melt.  When  Mr.  Littleworth  returned  to  the 
room,  he  found  the  young  ladies  undergoing  certain 
gymnastic  exercises  with  their  enraged  mamma,  not 
altogether  pleasant,  which  performance  being  over, 
Mrs.  Littleworth,  with  great  determination,  seated 
herself  upon  the  table,  unmindful  of  cracking  plates 
and  squashing  contents,  placed  her  arms  akimbo, 
and,  gazing  around  on  her  husband  and  progeny, 


PAUL     REDDING.  45 

she  felt,  not  for  the  first  time  either,  that  she  was 
"  monarch  of  all  she  surveyed ;  her  right  there  was 
none  to  dispute." 


CHAPTER    V. 

The  crowded  streets  are  gay  ; 

But  with  melancholy  mood, 
Amid  the  thronging  solitude 

The  stranger  wends  his  way. 

THERE  was  a  great  bustle  at  the  Half-way  House ; 
the  stage-coach  had  arrived,  and  was  in  readiness 
to  start  again.  The  inside  passengers,  as  usual, 
were  all  impatience.  Heads  of  various  qualities  of 
beauty,  were  continuously  popping  in  and  out,  as 
though  they  were  machines  worked  by  so  many 
wires.  One  fat  old  lady  concluded  at  first  that  it 
was  not  worth  while  to  get  out  of  the  coach,  but 
when  it  was  about  to  start,  she  thought  she  would 
get  out ;  but  just  then  the  horses  started  a  few  paces 
on,  and  the  good  lady  was  jolted  back  into  a  very 
nervous  old  gentleman's  lap ;  the  old  lady  muttered 
something  about  some  people  occupying  all  the 
seat ;  and  did  wish  that  somebody  would  see  to  her 
bandbox,  for  she  was  sure  it  had  dropt  off,  ever  so 
many  miles  back  on  the  road  ;  she  did  wish  that  the 
driver  would  look  after  it,  he  could  n't  help  know 
ing  it,  for  it  was  tied  up  with  a  blue  checkered 
handkerchief,  and  contained  her  best  bonnet,  be- 


46  PAUL    REDDING. 

side  a  bundle  of  water-crackers,  and  a  half  pound  of 
good  home-made  cheese.  But  it  was  n't  any  use 
of  talking,  she  knew  that,  and  always  knew  it ! 
Paul  Redding  had  engaged  a  place  on  the  outside 
of  the  coach  by  the  driver,  and  when  he  was  about 
mounting  into  his  seat,  Mynheer  Speckuncrout 
very  slyly  slipped  something  into  the  young  man's 
pocket,  and,  shaking  him  heartily  by  the  hand,  wished 
him  success.  The  ruddy-cheeked  coachman 
cracked  his  whip,  and  the  horses  started  briskly  off. 
"  Remember,"  cried  the  good-natured  host, 
pointing  to  the  sign,  "  when  you  come  this  way, 
remember  der  Half-way  House ! "  The  young 
man  nodded  his  head,  and  would  have  replied 
verbally,  but  they  were  already  far  down  the  road. 
By  five  o'clock  they  were  at  the  "  Spread  Eagle," 
by  eight,  they  were  crossing  the  Schuylkill  bridge, 
and  by  nine,  Paul  was  traversing  the  very  regular 
streets  of  the  Quaker  city.  He  walked  down 
Market  street  and  up  Chestnut,  gazing,  as  all 
strangers  are  wont  to  do,  at  the  curiosities  in  the 
shop-windows.  At  one  time  he  stood  before  a 
jeweller's  store,  where  were  displayed  more  silver 
plate,  gold  watches,  and  queer,  fantastic  clocks,  than 
he  had  ever  dreamed  of.  Farther  along  was  a 
bookstore,  where  were  emblazoned  immense  pla 
cards,  announcing  the  last  new  novel  by  Mr.  Some 
body,  Esq. ;  Madame  What's-her-name's  works  on 
political  economy ;  Man  as  he  is ;  Medicine  in 
general  and  anatomy  in  particular.  Mr.  What-do- 


PAUL     REDDING.  47 

ye-call-him's  advice  to  the  young ;  advice  to  mar 
ried  ladies,  and  directions  for  the  nursery.  Here 
was  spread,  to  a  crowd  of  ragged  admiring  urchins, 
the  last  great  works  of  the  renowned  Christopher 
Scrapp,  Esq. !  "  Here,"  thought  Paul,  "  is  to  be 
seen  one  of  those  revolutions  which  that  quaint  old 
gentleman,  Time,  brings  about.  While  Madame 
What's-her-name's  works  on  political  economy,  &c., 
are  emblazoned  forth,  old  Adam  Smith  lies  neglect 
ed  on  the  shelves,  enveloped  in  dust.  Now  Mr. 
What-do-ye-call-him  has  dropped  the  badges  of 
manhood,  turned  the  women  out  of  the  nursery,  and 
dandles  the  children  on  his  knee  to  the  tune  of 
4 high  diddle  diddle  ! '"  "  Well,"  continued  Paul, 
"  if  this  state  of  things  prevails  in  the  city,  I  shall 
fain  wish  myself  back  in  the  quiet  simple  country 
again,  where  at  least  the  women  nurse  their  own 
children,  and  the  farmers  pursue  their  occupation 
without  female  direction."  The  thought  of  the 
country  suggested  again  to  the  young  man  the  con 
sciousness  of  his  abject  situation.  "  Here,"  said 
he,  "  I  am  in  this  large  city,  without  friends  and 
without  money !  Here  industry  and  knavery 
flourish  cheek  by  jowl.  The  frivolous  and  thought 
ful,  rich  and  poor,  honest  and  dishonest,  hurry  along 
in  one  promiscuous  crowd,  a?/,  perhaps,  more  com 
fortable  than  I.  The  most  abandoned  wretch  may 
have  one  friend  to  speak  kindly  to  him,  and  shield 
him  for  the  night ;  the  most  ragged  urchin  in  the 
street  may  have  a  kind-hearted  mother  who  rejoices 


48  PAUL     REDDING. 

at  the  return  of  her  son,  although  he  may  come  to 
eat  the  only  remaining  crust !  Heaven  !  gracious 
heaven  !  why  am  I  an  orphan  ?  I  am  here  walled 
in  with  houses,  I  pass  an  almost  interminable  row 
of  doors,  yet  all  are  closed  to  me  ;  and  many  a  bed 
to-night  will  remain  untouched,  while  I  —  but  no 
more  of  that ;  what  right  have  I  to  expect  any  thing 
of  strangers  ?  they  know  not  me  nor  I  them.  If  I 
sleep  in  the  street,  the  watchmen  will  surely  not 
murder  me ;  if  I  am  robbed,  the  thief  will  not  be 
much  enriched  nor  I  much  impoverished."  Thus 
ruminated  Paul,  as  he  stepped  into  a  small  res 
taurateur.  Among  the  promiscuous  assemblage  of 
persons  regaling  themselves  on  various  articles  of 
food  and  liquor,  two  persons  in  particular  attracted 
his  attention.  One  was  a  little  shrivelled-up  Qua 
ker  ;  and  the  other  was  a  short,  robust,  ill-looking 
individual,  with  very  jagged  features  ;  an  iron  hook, 
that  was  appended  to  his  elbow,  did  service  in  the 
place  of  his  right  hand ;  and  with  that  he  toyed 
carelessly  with  the  different  articles  before  him,  on 
the  table,  the  use  of  the  hook  seeming  to  have  be 
come  a  second  nature.  Paul  gazed  at  the  man  a 
moment,  and  a  shudder  ran  over  him,  for  he  felt 
that  he  had  seen  that  ugly  countenance  before  ;  but 
where,  he  could  not  at  that  moment  recollect. 
When  a  plate  of  oysters  was  set  before  the  two 
men,  the  little  Quaker  rolled  his  eyes  up  to  the 
ceiling  and  looked  very  devout,  then  turning  them 
down  again,  he  gazed  around  on  the  company,  as 


PAUL     REDDING.  49 

if  to  take  them  to  witness  that  he  was  a  pious  man 
and  thankful  for  the  smallest  favors  ! 

Paul  took  a  seat  and  looked  over  the  morning 
news.  His  eye  met  the  lists  of  "wants,"  and  feeling 
in  his  pocket  for  a  scrap  of  paper  to  note  down  the 
number  of  two  or  three  of  what  seemed  to  be 
desirable  places,  he  found  a  queer  wad  stowed 
away  in  one  corner,  and  carefully  opening  it,  dis 
covered,  much  to  his  astonishment,  the  self-same 
money  that  he  had  paid  to  the  host  of  the  Half-way 
House.  Paul  was  at  first  delighted,  and  then 
mortified,  that  he  had  been  an  object  of  charity ; 
yet  he  was  grateful,  for  he  felt  how  disinterested 
were  the  motives  of  the  benevolent  giver.  "  This," 
thought  Paul,  "  this,  will  I  remember,  that  the  most 
needy  stand  not  always  with  open  mouths.  The 
ice-bound  stream  is  noiseless;  but  the  greedy 
brooks,  the  more  they  are  filled  the  more  they  cry 
aloud."  Our  hero  was  about  rising  from  his  seat, 
when  a  gentleman,  who  was  handling  pencil  and 
paper  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  begged  him 
to  sit  still,  if  it  was  but  for  a  moment.  "  I  have 
something  of  interest  to  communicate  to  you  pres 
ently,"  said  the  stranger,  and  in  a  few  moments  he 
seated  himself  beside  the  astonished  youth.  "I 
have  been  making  a  sketch  of  you.  I  hope  you  will 
take  no  offence,  none  intended,!  assure  you  ;  but  as 
you  sat  here  with  that  bundle, your  appearance  struck 
me  as  exceedingly  picturesque.  Here  is  the  sketch, 
very  hastily  done,  yet  there 's  character  in  it,  eh  ?  " 


50  PAUL     REDDING. 

Paul  was  evidently  not  pleased  at  first,  but  when  he 
examined  the  picture  he  saw  nothing  there  that 
might  not  have  been  drawn  from  any  one  else  in 
the  establishment,  and  feeling  assured  that  no  one 
could  ever  imagine  him  as  the  original,  he  replied 
that  he  was  quite  happy  if  he  had  been  of  any 
service  to  the  artist.  "  Of  service  ! "  reiterated  the 
stranger,  talking  through  his  nose.  "  You  have 
been  of  vast  service.  I  have  been  for  the  last  fort 
night  on  the  lookout  for  you ;  yes,  sir,  for  you ;  I 
saw  you  in  my  mind's  eye.  A  place  like  this  is 
the  best  in  the  world  for  characters.  I  visit  here 
nightly,  not  to  eat  or  drink,  as  my  enemies  have 
insinuated,  but  to  make  sketches.  Hogarth  was  in 
the  habit  of  doing  the  same  ;  he  used  to  draw 
figures  upon  his  thumb-nail.  The  smallness  of  the 
space  must  have  cramped  his  genius.  I  have  tried 
it,  but  I  make  so  many  drawings  in  an  evening  that 
I  found  it  impossible  to  follow  the  example  of  that 
great  man.  This  sketch,  I  will  tell  you  in  perfect 
confidence,  is  to  illustrate  a  look :  yes,  sir,  a  book. 
You  have  heard  of  Inkleton,  the  poet  ?  never  heard 
of  Ichabod  Inkleton,  the  poet !  You  amaze  me  ! 
Well,  you  see  he  is  now  engaged  on  a  great  work ; 
he  undertook  it  by  my  advice ;  and  that  great  work 
I  am  illustrating.  It  will  make  a  tremendous  sen 
sation,  you  may  depend.  The  book  will  be  in  six 
volumes,  entitled  'A  travesty  on  John  Bunyan's 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  by  Ichabod  Inkleton,  with  illus 
trations  by  Christopher  Scrapp,  Esq.'  Now,  sir, 


PAUL     REDDING.  51 

you  will  understand  why  I  drew  this  figure.  Do 
you  observe  that  short,  fat  gentleman  sitting  at  yon 
der  table  ?  "  "  The  one  with  the  very  red  nose  ?  " 
said  Paul.  "  Well,  yes,  his  nose  is  rather  red  ;  you 
understand  who  I  mean  —  that  interesting-looking 
individual,  with  the  broad  collar  thrown  open." 
"  Oh  yes,  I  see,"  replied  Paul,  "  the  man  with  sore 
eyes  who  is  stirring  his  liquor  with  his  finger." 
"  I  say,  my  boy,  pass  my  friend  Inkleton  a  spoon. 
Well,  my  young  friend,  that  gentleman  as  you 
understand,  is  the  poet ;  yes,  sir,  the  first  poet  of  our 
country.  I  shall  do  you  the  honor  of  an  introduc 
tion.  You  will  find  his  conversation  not  only  in 
structive  but  amusing.  His  thoughts  are  always 
beautiful,  and  his  language  is  always  poetry.  He 
frequently  couches  his  observations  in  verse ;  you 
would  be  delighted  to  hear  him  at  such  times.  I 
thought  that  there  was  something  of  the  vein  about 
him  this  evening ;  you  may  be  fortunate  enough  to 
hear  him.  Mr.  Inkleton  is  always  delighted  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  any  one  whom  I  recom 
mend  to  him,  because  he  feels  and  knows  that  he 
owes  much,  if  not  all  of  his  great  popularity,  to  my 
influence.  Come,  we  will  approach  him.  Inky, 
my  friend,  here  is  a  young  man,  the  original  of  this 
sketch ;  permit  him  to  linger  in  the  same  air  which 
your  greatness  breathes."  "  My  dear  Scrapp,  let 
me  embrace  you,"  said  Mr.  Inkleton,  attempting  to 
rise,  which  act  Mr.  S.  prevented,  and  embraced 
him  where  he  sat.  "  My  dear  Scrapp,"  continued 


52  PAUL     REDDING. 

the  poet  —  and  he  shook  hands  with  Paul  over  the 
artist's  back  —  "my  dear  Scrapp, 't  is  thus  I  fain 
would  clasp  your  friend,  your  wife,  or  daughter ; 
hand  me  a  glass,  my  boy,  of  gin,  without  the  water. 
Forgive  me,  Scrapp,  you  know  my  love  is  quite 
Platonic.  But  let  that  pass,  and  lake  a  glass  of 
inspiration,  called  Byronic.  Join  us,  young  man, 
and — and  —  "  "  I  never  drink,"  answered  Paul. 
"  He  is  modest,"  said  "Mr.  Scrapp,  "  and  never 
drinks,  I  presume,  unless  he  is  permitted  to  call  on 
the  liquor  himself."  "  I  drink  nothing  intoxicating, 
sir,  under  any  circumstances,"  replied  the  young 
man,  coloring.  "  I  wish  to  know,  Mr.  Scrapp,  if  I 
understood  you  rightly  ;  you  introduced  this  young 
man  as  a  friend  of  yours  ?"  "  No,  sir,  not  as  friend, 
but  as  the  original  of  this  sketch.-"  "Ah,  yes,  that 
explains  it ;  otherwise,  young  man,  that  last  observa 
tion  of  yours  would  have  been  mysterious  —  fact;  I 
assure  you,  I  am  serious."  "  The  evening  is  far 
advanced,"  said  Paul.  "Accept  my  thanks  for 
your  attentions  ;  good  night,  gentlemen."  "  Good 
night,"  said  Inkleton,  "  we  '11  excuse  you,  nor  lose 
much  neither  when  we  lose  you."  Our  hero  took 
lodging  for  the  night  at  the  sign  of  the  "  Bull's 
Head,"  a  quiet  inn,  situated  in  Strawberry  alley. 
He  had  there,  he  thought,  a  bed  very  much  more 
agreeable  than  he  could  possibly  bring  himself  to 
think  could  be  found  in  the  softest  stall  in  the  whole 
market-house. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  eagle  and  the  hawk  may  strive 

Amid  the  upper  air  ; 
But  wherefore,  tell  me,  wherefore  should 

The  tender  dove  be  there  ? 

ON  the  evening  of  the  following  day,  in  an  old 
building,  situated  at  the  corner  of  Strawberry  and 
Trotter's  alleys,  there  sat  two  of  our  principal  char 
acters  ;  one  at  least  worthy  of  considerable  atten 
tion,  as  he  proved  to  be  no  other  than  the  mysterious 
personage,  that  has  already  been  described  as  Fiery 
Fitful,  so  called.  He  was  seated  at  a  little  square 
table,  over  which  he  leaned  with  his  brow  resting  on 
his  hand  ;  his  face  was  more  pale  and  haggard 
than  it  had  yet  appeared  ;  his  eyes  were  deep  sunken, 
but  had  lost  none  of  the  lustre  of  their  piercing 
blackness  ;  and  he  only  raised  them  at  intervals  to 
gaze  at  his  companion,  but  his  look  was  that  of  one 
who  carried  a  broken  heart,  and  as  he  turned  his 
eyes  away,  the  language  of  inward  agony  was 
given  in  a  deep  sigh  —  a  sigh  near  akin  to  a  groan. 
Could  we  at  all  times  comprehend  the  burden  of  a 
sigh,  what  mysteries  would  be  unfolded,  what  sad 
thoughts,  what  heart-rending  sorrow,  what  awful 
deeds,  appealing  to  our  sympathies,  our  tears,  and 
our  prayers  !  But  no  ;  the  heart  is  a  strange  book, 
only  intelligible  to  the  wakeful  eye  of  the  spirit, 
that  hidden  priest  who  ever  chants  the  psalrns  of 
joy  or  sorrow  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  breast.  At 


54  PAUL     REDDING. 

times,  however,  some  response  of  that  chant  rises 
to  the  lips,  like  the  distant  sound  of  an  organ  peal, 
conveying  the  feeling  though  in  a  mysterious  lan 
guage  ;  and  the-  features  answer  to  its  changes,  as 
the  stream  gives  back  the  clear  sky,  or  the  rum 
bling  thunder-cloud. 

Heaven  alone  heard  the  slow,  solemn,  and  sor 
rowful  psalm  of  the  poor  spirit  that  ministered  in 
the  breast  of  Fitful's  companion.  A  pale  female, 
the  remnant  of  a  once  beautiful  woman,  but  now 
prematurely  shadowed  with  the  veil  of  age,  sat  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  small  room.  She  was 
dressed  in  one  of  those  old-fashioned  drab  cloaks, 
the  plain  hood  answering  the  place  of  a  bonnet. 
Her  hair  that  had  once  been  of  a  flaxen  color 
touched  with  gold,  was  now  sadly  mixed  with  gray, 
and  hung  carelessly  over  her  brow  and  temples. 
Her  hands  were  clasped  listlessly  together  on  her 
lap,  and  as  she  leant  forward  her  pale  blue  eyes 
gazed  vacantly  on  the  walls,  and  her  whole  face 
was  so  entirely  blank,  you  could  not  but  think 
that  some  blighting  sorrow  had  chilled  the  senses, 
and  thus  swept  every  vestige  of  expression  from 
her  countenance.  Such,  indeed,  had  been  her 
sorrow,  and  such  the  result. 

"  Poor  woman !  "  thought  Fitful,  as  he  heaved  a 
bitter  sigh,  "  poor  woman,  God  knows  what  she  has 
suffered  !  Of  what  a  lovely  thing  is  she  the  wreck ! 
O,  it  drives  me  mad  to  think  of  it  —  could  she  but 
wake  up  from  that  horrible  lethargy,  if  i^  were  but 


PAUL     REDDING.  55 

for  the  space  of  an  hour,  that  I  might  tell  her  of 
the  fires  that  are  consuming  me,  and  would  bear  it 
all,  how  calmly.  But  now,  it  is  as  though  I  had 
cursed  my  mother  and  she  had  died,  while  yet  the 
words  were  in  the  air,  leaving  me  unforgiven,  with 
the  unnatural  crime  forever  recoiling  upon  my  own 
head.  Nothing  in  man's  great  book  of  calamities 
could  be  more  terrible,  except  what  I  now  see 
before  me!  But  I  must  speak  to  her — Mary, — 
Mary,  I  say  —  "  "  Did  you  speak  ?  "  said  the  poor 
woman,  turning  upon  Fitful  the  same  expression 
less  face.  "  Yes,  Mary,  I  was  about  to  tell  you 
that  the  boy  has  arrived  in  the  city." 

"  I  had  a  boy  once,"  replied  she.  "  I  remem 
ber  him  yet."  Ah,  yes,  what  force  of  circum 
stances  ever  compelled  a  mother  to  forget  her 
child  ?  Through  the  heaviest  mist  that  wraps  the 
dulled  senses,  or  the  blackest  clouds  of  adversity, 
the  mother's  remembrance  of  her  child  come  star- 
like  ;  yes,  amid  all  this, 

"  A  mother  is  a  mother  still, 
The  holiest  thing  alive." 

"  But  I  was  agoing  to  tell  you,"  resumed  the 
man,  "  I  was  agoing  to  tell  you,  that  Paul  is  in 
town." 

"  Paul,  —  Paul,"  —  said  she,  slowly,  "  yes,  I  like 
that  name  —  my  father's  name  was  Paul;  he  was 
an  old  man;  his  hair  was  quite  white  —  very  like 
my  own  —  yes,  I  think  sometimes,  that  I  look  like 
him  —  look  as  he  did  when  he  was  dead  —  very 


56  PAUL     REDDING. 

pale  ;  but  I  did  n't  see  him  then  —  no,  no,  I  did  n't 
see  him  then." 

"  Gracious  heaven !  "  groaned  Fitful,  covering 
his  face  in  his  hands ;  at  last  he  started,  as  if  im 
pelled  by  some  irresistible  power,  and  gazing 
wildly  around,  he  was  about  to  give  vent  to  words 
that  seemed  struggling  for  utterance,  when  a  slight 
knocking  was  heard  at  the  door ;  Fitful  in  a  mo 
ment  recoiled  within  himself,  and  assumed  his 
usual  composure,  if,  indeed,  at  any  time  he  might 
be  said  to  be  composed.  The  manner  in  which  a 
person  demands  entrance  by  the  common  mode  of 
rapping  on  the  door  with  the  knuckle  or  any  similar 
instrument,  is  as  good  an  index  perhaps  to  the 
character  of  an  individual  as  almost  any  of  their 
other  external  actions  ;  not  only  may  you  judge  of 
their  usual  peculiarities,  but  more  especially  of  the 
present  mood  by  which  they  are  actuated.  Such 
was  the  case  in  the  present  instance.  Fitful  in 
voluntarily  contracted  his  brows  and  gazed  for  a 
moment  angrily  towards  the  door,  his  fierce  black 
eyes  seemed  to  penetrate  the  panels,  and  to  survey 
the  stranger  with  an  unwelcome  look  of  recognition. 
The  sly,  crafty  knock,  if  such  an  epithet  may  be 
applied  to  a  sound,  was  repeated,  and  the  person 
was  admitted.  Nathaniel  Munson,  (for  such  was 
the  name  of  the  intruder,)  was  a  little  shrivelled-up 
old  man,  dressed  in  Quaker  garb ;  his  very  small 
gray  eyes  twinkled  very  sharply  from  beneath 
jagged  eyebrows,  and  his  thin  Roman  nose  came 


FAUL     REDDING.  57 

into  close  proximity  with  his  peaked  chin,  which 
was  half  buried  in  the  thick  loose  folds  of  his 
white  neck  handkerchief,  the  latter  being  the  only 
article  about  him  that  wore  the  appearance  of 
amplitude  or  freedom. 

"How  does  thee  do,  John?"  exclaimed  the 
Quaker,  rubbing  his  hard,  bony  hands  together,  as 
if  he  enjoyed  the  feeling,  since  he  knew  that  the 
sharp  knuckles  and  lank  fingers  betrayed  no  very 
great  extravagance  in  his  mode  of  living.  "  Ah," 
thought  he,  as  he  hid  a  malicious  grin  by  burying 
his  face  deep  in  his  neck-cloth,  and  gazed  toward 
the  woman  who  was  scarcely  yet  conscious  of  his 
presence,  "Ah,  ha!  she  is  here,  eh!  perhaps  with 
some  complaint  of  ill  usage,  or  something  of  that 
sort,  eh?  Well,  well,  we'll  stop  this  communica 
tion  one  of  these  days."  His  thoughts,  however, 
were  not  deep  enough  to  be  concealed  from  the 
searching  gaze  of  Fitful,  who  read  the  Quaker's 
mind  in  his  countenance  as  easily  as  though  it  had 
been  a  book.  Munson  quailed  beneath  the  fiery 
indignation  of  Fitful's  eye,  while  the  latter  led  the 
woman  to  the  door,  and  giving  her  to  understand 
that  they  must  part  for  the  present,  bade  her  good 
night.  "Now,  sir,"  said  he,  turning  to  the  old 
man,  who  had  betaken  himself  to  a  seat,  "Now, 
sir,  may  I  be  informed  as  to  what  circumstances  I 
am  indebted  for  the  honor  of  this  call  ?  " 

"  Law,  bless  me,  John,"  said  the  Quaker,  smiling 
sarcastically,  "  Law,  thee  is  so  polite  !  " 
4 


58  PAUL    REDDING. 

"  Well,  then,"  answered  the  other,  "  to  be  less 
polite  and  more  to  the  purpose,  what  in  the  devil's 
name  brings  your  hideous  skeleton  here,  to-night  ?  " 

Here  Nathaniel  Munson  dropped  his  face 
deeper  than  before  into  his  neck-cloth,  and  gave 
vent  to  a  half-smothered  "  he,  he."  "  You  well 
know,"  continued  Fitful,  "  that  I  had  rather  see  the 
foulest  ghost  that  ever  troubled  the  perpetrator  of 
the  blackest  crime  that  man  or  demon  could  com 
mit,  than  stand  for  a  moment  in  your  loathsome 
presence ! "  The  Quaker  made  no  other  reply 
to  this  speech  than  a  mere  nervous  working  of  his 
fingers,  as  if  he  were,  in  imagination,  strangling 
some  hateful  enemy. 

"  Like  an  evil  vine,  you  wove  your  wily  schemes 
about  me  until  my  whole  existence  was  poisoned 
by  them ;  and  now  you  come  to  glut  your  odious 
eyes  upon  me,  blasted  as  I  am  in  the  very  prime  of 
manhood  ! " 

"  It  was  your  own  willing  act,"  at  last  answered 
Munson,  emphatically,  dropping  the  personal  pro 
noun  "  thee  "  for  another  more  broad  and  expres 
sive;  "  you  did  it,  and  I  have  kept  your  secret." 

"  Yes,  you  have  kept  the  secret,  and  wisely, 
since  you  know  that  the  scaffold  which  the  law 
would  build  for  me  would  be  sufficiently  ample  to 
accommodate  two  of  us." 

"  No,  no,  not  my  throat,"  said  the  old  man,  as 
he  adjusted  the  handkerchief  about  his  neck,  "  not 


PAUL     REDDING.  59 

Fitful  smiled  contemptuously,  and  seating  him 
self  opposite  to  the  Quaker,  requested,  very  mildly, 
that  Nathaniel  Munson  would  make  known  his 
business  without  further  delay  ;  or,  if  his  business 
was  of  no  particular  importance,  to  at  once  take 
his  leave,  and  in  future  be  careful  and  not  cross  his 
(FitfuPs)  path  too  often. 

"  O,  yes,  I  '11  take  care  of  that,"  replied  Munson, 
striving  to  appear  very  good-natured ;  and  added, 
again  going  back  to  the  Quaker  mode  of  expres 
sion,  which  he  invariably  used  when  he  engaged  in 
any  dissimulation,  "  Thee  seems  somewhat  vexed, 
John ;  I  trust  thee  is  not  angry  with  me  ?  " 

"  Your  business,  I  say,  again,"  answered  Fitful, 
impatiently. 

"Very  well,  we  will  to  business,  then,  if  thee 
will  have  it  so,"  replied  the  old  man.  "  Thee 
knows  that  thy  strange  behavior  hath  drawn  many 
eyes  toward  thee;  many  inquiries  and  unpleasant 
conjectures  are  bandied  from  mouth  to  mouth  even 
now  through  the  city  ;  thee  knows  this,  eh  ?  " 
"Well  — well  — goon." 

"Thee  knows,"  continued  Munson,  "that  should 
any  clue  be  got  to  a  certain  transaction,  thee  knows 
what  foul  disgrace  would  forever  stigmatize  certain 
innocent  persons  nearly  connected  with  thee,  eh  ?  " 
"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  Fitful,  "  and  I  know,  too, 
that  in  that  case  certain  persons  who  are  not  quite 
so  innocent  would  be  placed  in  rather  an  un 
pleasant  situation  ;  but  go  on." 

"  Therefore  it  is  desirous,"  pursued  the  Quaker, 


60  PAUL     REDDING. 

"  that  thy  appearance  here  should  no  longer  awake 
the  suspicions  of  these  curious  people." 

"And  therefore  it  is  desirous,"  answered  the 
other,  sneeringly,  "  that  I  should  go  and  drown 
myself." 

"  O,  no,  by  no  means ;  thee  mistakes  my  friend 
ship,"  replied  Munson,  while  a  fiendish  expression 
of  cunning  played  over  his  features.  "  Thee 
knows,  or  ought  to  know,  that  I  have  always  been 
a  friend  to  thee  and  thine." 

"  Cease  your  hypocritical  jargon,"  said  Fitful, 
angrily,  "  but  proceed  with  your  business." 

"  What  I  am  about  to  propose,"  continued  the 
other,  "  will  in  no  way  compromise  thy  own  safety 
or  peace  of  mind,  but  rather  add  to  it,  and  espe 
cially  secure  the  quietude  of  those  so  nearly  con 
nected  with  thee ;  those  whom  thee  cares  most  for, 
I  mean,"  added  he,  as  he  saw  a  scowl  gathering 
over  the  face  of  his  companion. 

"  A  vessel  of  mine  is  in  port,  and  will  sail  again 
in  three  or  four  weeks,  to  make  a  voyage  of  a  few 
months ;  now  I  thought,  perhaps,  that  thee  might 
like  to  take  a  trip  in  her,  and,  by  so  doing,  thee 
would  be  enabled  to  see  new  scenes  in  other  coun 
tries  that  would  brighten  thee  up  and  make  a  new 
man  of  thee,  eh  ?  " 

"  I  '11  think  of  it,"  answered  Fitful,  musingly  ; 
"  and,  in  the  meantime,  I  desire  to  be  left  alone, 
that  is  if  you  have  finished  your  business  ;  therefore 
leave  —  no,  stay ;  I  forgot  to  say  to  you  what  I 
know  will  give  you  great  pleasure  to  hear — the 


PAUL     REDDING.  61 

boy  Paul  is  in  town."  As  Fitful  said  this,  Munson 
started  as  though  he  had  suddenly  encountered  a 
ghost ;  and  then  he  contracted  his  brows  heavily, 
thrust  his  chin  very  deep  into  his  neckcloth,  and 
stood  gazing  thoughtfully  at  the  floor.  At  last  he 
murmured,  half  inaudibly,  "  He,  then,  is  the  first 
incumbrance  to  be  got  rid  of." 

"What  are  you  muttering  about?"  exclaimed 
Fitful. 

"  O,  I  was  just  thinking  what  employment  we 
could  give  him ;  we  must  do  something  for  him, 
thee  knows." 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  the  other,  waving  his  hand  for 
Munson  to  leave,  "I  will  send  the  boy  to  you, 
to-morrow,  since  you  are  so  solicituous  about  his 
welfare.  So,  now  that  is  settled  for  the  present, 
go  !  "  As  he  said  this,  the  door  closed  heavily  at 
the  back  of  Nathaniel  Munson,  who  pursued  his 
way  moodily  to  his  own  dwelling. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

*«  The  departed  !  the  departed  ! 

They  visit  us  in  dreams, 
And  they  glide  above  our  memories, 

Like  shadows  over  streams." 

PARK  BENJAMIN. 

THE  reader  may  imagine  Paul  Redding  being 
seated  in  the  comfortable  old-fashioned  bar-room  of 
the  "  Bull's  Head."  There  are  coats  and  hats  of 


PAUL     REDDING. 

every  shape  and  quality  decorating  the  walls ; 
here  is  the  broad-brimmed,  furless  hat  of  the 
Quaker;  there  the  long  whip  and  weather-beaten 
overcoat  of  the  wagoner.  All  of  these  bespeak  the 
character  of  the  house,  which  is  a  sort  of  country 
inn,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  good,  homely- 
minded  market  people,  who  make  a  weekly,  month 
ly,  or  half-yearly  tour  to  the  city  with  their  produce, 
from  the  rich  old  counties  of  Lancaster  and  Ches 
ter.  Many  years  ago,  when  but  a  child,  we  well 
remember  with  what  admiration,  nay,  almost  awe, 
we  then  gazed  at  the  bull's  head  on  the  swinging 
sign-board  ;  the  mad  eye,  the  foam  dropping  from 
the  mouth,  seemed  to  be  the  highest  reach  of  art ; 
and  the  chain  around  his  neck  appeared  to  be  a 
very  necessary  appendage.  But  we  must  return 
to  the  youth.  The  reader  may  now  imagine  what 
was  Paul's  surprise  to  encounter  the  same  strange, 
person,  that  but  a  day  or  two  since,  he  had  first 
met  in  the  neighborhood  of  an  obscure  village, 
some  thirty  miles  back  in  the  country.  The 
stranger's  air  was  now  less  terrific,  his  eyes  less 
wild,  and  his  dress  less  peculiar,  not  to  say  fantastic ; 
but  his  face  bore  still  that  same  haggard  hue,  and 
there  was  something  yet  sufficiently  strange  in  his 
manner  to  make  him  attract  the  attention  of  most 
persons,  and  elicit  queer  conjectures  from  the  more 
curious.  Fitful  was  keenly  sensible  of  this.  The 
glance  of  every  eye  annoyed  him,  and  he  inter 
preted  every  whisper  to  be  some  surmise  or  un- 


PAUL     REDDING.  63 

pleasant  suggestion  of  which  he  was  the  subject. 
Therefore  he  gave  Paul  to  understand,  that  he  was 
not  altogether  what  he  seemed,  and  persuaded  the 
young  man  to  accompany  him  to  his  own  private 
lodgings.  And  Paul,  actuated  somewhat  by 
curiosity,  and,  perhaps,  from  a  sense  of  his  own 
loneliness,  but  more  from  a  deep  sympathy  for  the 
mysterious  man,  at  last  consented  ;  and  the  two 
strangers,  followed  by  the  inquiring  gaze  of  twenty 
eyes,  glided  out,  and  were  soon  lost  amid  the  dark 
ness  of  the  street.  They  entered  a  narrow  alley 
way,  and  passing  through  the  back  room  of  an  old 
building,  Fitful  led  the  way  cautiously  up  a  dark 
flight  of  stairs  into  the  little  apartment  mentioned  in 
the  last  chapter.  On  one  side  there  were  two  windows 
that  were  tightly  fastened  up  with  old-fashioned 
board  shutters ;  in  one  corner  of  the  room  was 
situated  a  small  bed,  and  opposite  to  that  was  the 
little  fire-place,  mounted  with  an  old  black  mantle- 
piece,  over  which  hung  two  antique-looking  pistols, 
well  coated  with  rust ;  and  between  these  stood  a 
small  quaintly-figured  dingy  clock,  that  ticked  so 
slow  and  mournfully,  that  you  might  have  imagined 
it  was  complaining  over  the  loss  of  its  better  and 
brighter  days.  On  the  base  of  the  clock,  which 
was  of  brass,  these  mysterious  lines  were  dimly 
carved,  or  rather  scratched  : 

"A  pendulum  bright  is  the  heart  of  a  youth, 

That  ever  goes  merrily  on, 
Till  crime  clings  unto  it,  then  horrible  ruth 
Like  rust  gnaws  away,  with  unsatisfied  tooth, 

Nor  stops  when  its  brightness  is  gone." 


64  PAUL     REDDING. 

The  appearance  of  the  place  impressed  Paul  with 
an  irresistible  feeling  of  awe,  and  served  in  no 
way  to  solve  the  mystery,  that  hung  around  the 
stranger;  but  notwithstanding  all  this,  the  young 
man's  curiosity  was  still  more  excited,  and, 
assuming  an  air  of  confidence,  he  accepted  the 
proffered  chair,  while  Fitful  drew  up  another  and 
seated  himself  familiarly  by  his  side. 

"  I  was  somewhat  surprised  to  find  you  in  the 
city,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,  I  was  almost  surprised  at  it  myself,"  an 
swered  Paul ;  "  but  I  arrived  here  last  evening,  in 
hopes  of  finding  some  situation  where  I  might  better 
my  fortune  ;  for  I  have  had  rather  a  hard  lot  of  it 
since  being  left  an  orphan,  when  a  mere  child." 

"An  orphan,"  sighed  Fitful ;  "  poor  boy  !  " 

"An  orphan  is  to  be  pitied,  to  be  sure,"  replied 
the  young  man,  coloring  slightly,  "  but  not  so  much 
pitied  while  he  has  health  and  strength,  and  hands 
to  work  with." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  answered  the  other,  "  the  energy  of 
a  determined,  youthful,  innocent  mind  —  mark  me, 
I  say  a  pure  mind  —  can  easily  surmount  every 
barrier  that  misfortune  may  throw  in  its  way." 

"  I  think  that  I  have  energy  enough,  if  I  may  be 
allowed  to  say  so  much  in  my  own  favor,"  answer 
ed  Paul. 

"And  a  pure  mind  to  back  it,  I  have  no  doubt," 
said  Fitful. 

"  But,"  continued  he,  changing  the  subject,  "  if  I 


PAUL     REDDING.  65 

was  surprised  to  see  you  here,  I  may  readily  guess 
that  you  were  equally  so  to  encounter  me  ;  that  is, 
if  you  recognise  me  again."  Paul  answered  that 
it  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  forget  so  soon,  the  face 
that  he  had  seen  under  such  peculiar  circumstances, 
at  the  village  inn  but  a  short  time  before. 

"Ah  yes,  indeed!"  sighed  Fitful,  "that  was 
a  dreadful  black  night — a  most  horrible  night, 
Paul ! " 

"  It  was,  indeed  !  "   answered  the  young  man. 

"  I  would  tell  you  something  of  it,"  continued 
Fitful,  casting  a  sly  glance  over  his  shoulder,  "  for 
it  relieves  my  mind,  and  drives  away  those  dreadful 
fancies,  when  I  can  talk  with  some  friend  familiarly 
about  them.  But  no,  no,  it  would  frighten  you', 
Paul,  terrify  you,  if  you  could  see,  for  one  moment, 
those  hideous  creatures  at  my  shoulder.  I  '11  not 
talk  of  them ! "  And  the  poor  man  passed  his  hands 
nervously  over  his  brow  and  head,  as  if  to  repel 
the  rising  recollection. 

"  I  pray  you,"  said  Paul,  "  if  it  affords  you  but  a 
moment's  ease  of  mind,  I  pray  you,  speak  on." 

Fitful  gazed  cautiously  around  the  room,  and 
remarked  again  in  an  undertone,  "  Oh,  what  a 
fearful  night  that  was,  Paul,  was  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Very  !  "  replied  the  young  man,  shuddering  at 
the  recollection. 

"  How  it  stormed  !  "  continued  the  other,  "  were 
you  not  frightened  at  my  sudden  appearance  ?  " 

"  I  was  somewhat  surprised,"  said  Paul  mechan- 


66  PAUL     REDDING. 

ically,  striving  to  avoid  giving  a  pang  to  the  feel 
ings  of  the  poor  man. 

"  Yes,  you  were  surprised  !  and  very  reasonably 
thought  me  mad,  no  doubt." 

"Indeed,  sir,—  " 

"  Make  no  apology,  Paul,"  interrupted  the  other, 
"  make  no  apology  ;  you  could  n't  have  thought  me 
more  mad  than  I  really  was  ;  —  yes,  it  was  a  burn 
ing  fit  of  the  direst  madness.  But  tell  me,  Paul, 
what  did  I  talk  about  ?  " 

"Indeed,  I  can  hardly  recollect,"  replied  the 
youth,  "  but  you  complained  somewhat  about  evil 
spirits  that  haunted  you." 

"  Was  that  all  ?  "  said  Fitful,  again  cautiously 
looking  over  his  shoulder.  "  Did  n't  I  speak  any 
thing  of  him :  I  mean  of  an  old  man,  eh  ?  "  And 
he  gazed  wildly  in  Paul's  face,  as  the  young  man, 
rather  hesitatingly,  replied,  "yes." 

"  What  was  it,  Paul  ?  what  was  it  ? "  and  he 
grasped  the  young  man  tightly  by  the  arm. 

"  You  said  something  of  an  old  man  that  stood 
looking  over  your  shoulder,  I  believe." 

"  Was  that  all  ?  — all  ?  "  asked  Fitful,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  all  that  I  can  remember,"  replied  Paul. 

The  poor  man  laughed  hysterically  fora  moment, 
but  suddenly  settled  down  into  a  gloomy,  thoughtful 
mood.  At  last  he  said  in  a  low  and  melancholy 
voice,  "  There  are  dangerous  things  that  assail  us 
when  our  backs  are  turned  —  evils  that  meet  us 
face  to  face  we  can  manfully  combat ;  but  slander 


PAUL     REDDING.  67 

and  the  tiptoe  assassin  at  our  backs,  are  more  to  be 
feared  than  a  legion  of  foes  standing  before  us.  I 
could  boldly  meet  and  grapple  with  flesh  and  blood 
like  myself ;  but  my  greatest  and  nearest  enemy  is 
not  tangible  ;  it  is  here  —  here —  "  (he  pressed  his 
finger  on  his  forehead,  as  he  spoke.)  "  Yes, 
Paul,  it  is  here.  Imagination  makes  such  cowards 
of  us  all,  that  we  fear  the  immaterial  shadow  which 
the  mind  projects  much  more  than  the  material. 
Would  it  were  not  so.  I  would  not  have  you  think, 
Paul,  that  I  am  usually  the  miserable  thing  that  you 
saw  me  a  few  evenings  since.  No  !  that  was  one 
of  my  worst  fits.  How  the  evil  fiends  haunted  me 
that  night !  I  strayed  off  to  the  woods  and  hills ; 
but  still  I  was  haunted.  Every  sound  became 
terrible  !  It  seemed  as  though  the  heavens  thun 
dered  only  to  speak  of  me  ;  the  watch-dogs  at  the 
farm-houses,  far  and  near,  seemed  only  to  howl 
and  bark,  because  I  was  prowling  through  the 
woods  like  a  thief.  Each  rustling  leaf  whispered 
something  of  the  thing  I  least  wished  to  hear. 
Every  branch  that  broke  beneath  my  footstep  gave 
vent  to  a  horrible  tell-tale  voice.  As  I  sat  trem 
bling  on  the  ledges  of  rocks,  I  dared  not  to  lift  my 
eyes  upward,  lest  I  should  behold  a  ghastly  demon 
looking  down  into  my  face.  The  boughs,  that 
swayed  back  and  forth  in  the  storm,  seemed  to  be 
long  arms  and  hands,  that  strove  to  grasp  me.  The 
trees  appeared  to  take  fiendish  shapes,  and  to  link 
their  long,  lank  fingers  together ;  they  nodded  their 


68  PAUL     REDDING. 

heads,  jeering  at  me  as  they  danced  around,  and 
their  ragged  beards  floated  wildly  on  the  wind. 
The  solitude  was  more  populous  than  the  habitations 
of  man,  and  I  fled  from  it ;  yes,  Paul,  from  such 
terrors  as  these  was  I  striving  to  escape  when  I 
rushed  so  wildly  in  the  bar-room  of  the  village  inn. 
Oh,  Paul,  Paul,  as  you  cherish  hopes  for  the  bright 
things  of  earth,  and  the  brighter  things  of  heaven, 
never,  never,  let  your  passions  direct  your  hand  or 
tongue  to  do  aught  that  shall  sow  the  nettle-seeds 
of  remorse  in  the  fair  bed  of  conscience  !  "  Fit- 
ful's  descriptions  of  these  fantasies  were  not  without 
their  effect  upon  the  nerves  of  the  youth ;  nor  was 
the  strange  man  so  lost  amid  the  recollections  of 
his  past  terrors  as  to  escape  observing  this  ;  but  on 
the  contrary,  he  found  it  prudent  to  conceal  as 
much  as  possible  the  workings  of  his  own  imagina 
tion,  and  change  the  conversation  to  some  topic  of 
a  less  exciting  nature. 

"  We  will  talk  no  more  of  these  things,"  said 
Fitful,  striving  to  appear  as  calm  as  possible. 
"And  now  that  I  think  of  it,"  continued  he,  "  what 
do  you  propose  doing  in  this  great  city  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  have  not  the  faintest  idea,"  replied 
Paul. 

"  You  will  excuse  the  liberty,  my  young  friend," 
said  Fitful,  "  but  I  judge,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that 
the  purse  of  a  youth,  who  is  seeking  his  fortune,  is 
not  over-full,  and  I  suppose  that  you  would  like 
some  employment  immediately,  if  you  could  pro 
cure  it  ?  " 


PAUL    REDDING.  69 

"  You  speak  truly,"  answered  Paul,  unhesitating 
ly  ;  "I  should  be  glad  of  any  situation  that  would 
give  me  an  honest  living." 

"  I  think,"  said  Fitful,  "  that  I  can  help  you  to  a 
place  that  may  suit  you  for  the  present,  until  you 
find  some  employment  that  will  be  more  agreeable 
to  your  inclination." 

"  I  would  regard  it  as  a  great  favor,"  replied  the 
young  man. 

"  There  are  those,"  continued  the  other,  as  a 
scowl  gathered  on  his  brow,  "  there  are  those  who 
are  under  obligations  to  me,  that  perhaps  would  be 
glad  of  your  services." 

"  I  wish  it  may  prove  so,"  answered  Paul. 

"  Prove  so !  "  reiterated  Fitful,  with  an  angry 
stare  ;  "  prove  so  !  I  tell  you,  Paul,  they  dare  not 
refuse  me! — that  is,"  continued  he,  suddenly 
checking  his  vehemence,  "  I  think  they  will  not  — 
I  am  quite  certain  they  will  not ;  or,  if  they  do,  no 
matter,  you  can  call  to-morrow  morning  and  ascer 
tain  for  yourself.  In  the  mean  time,  allow  me  to 
ask  what  are  your  plans  for  to-night  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Paul. 

"  What  1  mean,  is  this  :  do  you  stop  at  the  tavern, 
to-night  ?  " 

"  I  see  no  other  alternative,"  said  Paul,  hesitating 
ly  ;  "  but  to  be  plain  with  you,  I  have  been  driven 
to  my  wit's  end  to  know  what  I  should  do  in  my 
present  case.  I  was  in  hopes  that  one  day's  search 
would  procure  me  some  employment ;  but  I  have 


70  PAUL     REDDING. 

been  sorely  disappointed ;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  have  not  the  means  to  pay  for  my  lodging  at  the 
inn,  should  I  go  there."  As  Paul  stammered  out 
this,  Fitful's  face  relaxed  almost  to  a  smile,  as  near 
indeed  as  he  ever  came  to  smiling  in  his  calmer 
moments  ;  and  he  said,  "I  am  almost  selfish  enough 
to  be  glad  of  it !  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  answered  Paul,  good-naturedly, 
"  why  so  ?  " 

"  Because  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  providing 
for  you  to-night;  my  only  regret  is,"  as  he  spoke 
he  cast  a  sad  look  around  the  room,  "  my  only 
regret  is,  that  I  have  no  better  accommodations  to 
afford  you." 

"  Were  that  all,"  answered  the  other,  "  you  need 
give  yourself  no  uneasiness  on  that  score." 

"  That  is  all,"  replied  Fitful,  "  and  believe  me, 
Paul,  nothing  now  could  give  me  greater  happiness 
than  to  do  you  a  service." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  youth,  with  heart-felt 
gratitude  ;  "  I  am  exceedingly  obliged  to  you,  and  I 
would  accept  your  kind  offer,  were  it  not  but  for 
one  thing." 

"  What  is  that,  pray  ?  " 

"  You  will  excuse  me  for  saying  so  ;  but  if  that 
is  your  bed,  as  I  suppose  it  is,  it  seems  to  be  hardly 
large  enough  to  accommodate  two  of  us." 

"  Do  n't  trouble  yourself  about  that,  Paul,"  said 
Fitful,  with  a  sigh ;  "  if  there  is  bed  enough  for 
you,  that  is  all  that  is  necessary.  I  never  lie  down 
at  night  —  never  sleep  unless  it  be  in  the  broad 


PAUL     REDDING.  71 

daylight,  for  reasons  that  you  may  one  day  know  ; 
as  it  is,  for  the  present  —  no  matter;  there  is  your 
bed,  when  you  are  ready  betake  yourself  to  it,  and 
do  n't  mind  me."  The  strange  man's  manner  was 
so  decisive,  that  Paul  deemed  it  prudent  to  make 
no  farther  remonstrance,  but  thanked  him  and  talked 
of  other  matters.  Such  was  the  young  man's  con 
fidence  in  his  mysterious  friend,  that  at  an  early 
hour  he  made  no  hesitation  to  retire  to  rest ;  and 
notwithstanding  the  strangeness  of  his  companion, 
or  the  singular  appearance  of  the  apartment,  without 
entertaining  the  slightest  scruples,  he  permitted 
himself  to  fall  into  that  state  of  half-unconscious 
ness,  when  .the  mind  takes  no  cognizance  of  out 
ward  things,  but  wanders  almost  as  free  as  the  dis 
embodied  spirit,  mingling  in  scenes,  and  calling  up 
incidents  that  otherwise  seemed  buried  in  oblivion. 
In  such  a  state  it  would  seem  that  the  claims  of 
mortality  were,  for  the  time,  cast  off,  and  the  soul 
was  permitted  to  wander,  for  awhile,  in  that  fair 
country,  where  the  past  and  the  future  are  spread, 
like  pleasant  fields,  on  either  side  of  the  present. 
In  the  one,  the  spirit  becomes  a  child  again,  and 
rambles  by  familiar  brooks  and  trees,  while  flowers, 
birds,  and  butterflies,  welcome  it  as  their  natural 
playmate.  In  the  other,  it  walks  amid  poetic 
structures,  through  gorgeous  temples,  where 

"  —  Music  is  the  breath  of  thought,  and  flows 
Like  gold  and  silver  light  throughout  all  space  — 
Where  buds  and  flowers  are  but  the  gems  of  love 
And  truth,  a  record  of  all  holy  things, 
The  language  of  the  soul  !  " 


72  PAUL     REDDING. 

And  who  may  say  that  such  are  not  the  realities  of 
the  land  of  spirits  ? 

From  some  cause  or  other,  perhaps  stung  by 
some  cruel  change  in  his  dream,  Paul  suddenly 
awoke ;  and  casting  his  gaze  to  the  opposite  corner 
of  the  room,  he  beheld  Fitful  sitting  at  a  small 
table,  bending  very  intently  over  some  manuscripts, 
in  which  he  seemed  ever  and  anon  to  be  making 
corrections.  The  rattling  of  the  straw  mattress,  as 
the  young  man  changed  his  position,  betrayed  the 
movement  to  his  strange  companion,  who,  as  if 
caught  in  some  criminal  act,  grasped  the  papers 
hurriedly  together,  and  thrust  them  into  his  bosom. 
Then  taking  up  the  half-filled  lamp,  he  approached 
the  bed,  but  seeing  that  Paul's  eyes  were  closed, 
he  returned  to  the  table,  and  again  busied  himself 
with  the  papers.  A  second  time  did  the  youth  fall 
into  that  state  of  half-unconsciousness.  A  motley 
dream  of  consistencies  and  inconsistencies  now  took 
possession  of  his  brain.  At  one  time  he  thought 
that  his  mother  stood  weeping  over  him,  and  he  had 
no  power  to  speak  to  her  —  how  young  and  beauti 
ful  she  looked  !  Yes,  as  beautiful  and  young  as 
when  he,  a  fair-haired,  happy  child,  ran  laughing 
to  his  fair-haired,  happy  mother.  But  soon  there 
came  a  melancholy  scene,  where  his  father  appear 
ed,  a  tall,  dark-browed  man,  who  smoothed  the 
hair  from  the  forehead  of  his  son,  and  whispered 
in  his  ear,  "  farewell  !  " 

Again  Paul  started  from  his  sleep,  and  he  beheld 


PAUL    REDDING.  73 

Fitful  standing  over  him,  gazing  in  his  face,  and 
smoothing  aside  the  hair  from  the  young  man's 
brow,  as  his  father  had  done  in  the  dream. 

"  I  was  only  looking  to  see  if  you  slept  well," 
said  Fitful,  and  he  turned  away. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

With  lips  depressed  as  he  were  meek, 
Himself  unto  himself  he  sold  : 

*  *  *  *  * 

Quiet,  dispassionate,  and  cold, 

***** 
With  chiseled  features,  clear  and  sleek." 


TENNYSON. 


ON  the  following  morning,  our  young  hero  sal 
lied  forth  to  seek  his  fortune  ;  but,  first  of  all,  by 
the  advice  and  directions  of  Fitful,  to  seek  the 
residence  of  Nathaniel  Munson.  He  traversed 
street  after  street,  like  all  strangers,  taking  the 
most  circuitous  route  to  find  a  place  to  which  the 
simplest  straight  forward  course  would  have  led 
him.  He  had  arrived,  however,  almost  to  his  place 
of  destination,  when  he  suddenly  stumbled  against 
his  friend,  Mr.  Christopher  Scrapp,  the  caricaturist. 
"Halloa!"  said  that  gentleman,  with  a  stare  of 
recognition,  "  you  are  a  more  perfect  picture  than 
ever  !  Come,  step  into  my  studio  a  moment  ;  you 
shall  have  the  privilege  of  examining  my  produc 
tions,  free  of  expense,  unless,  sir,  (and  as  I  look  at 
you  again,  you  have  an  eye  to  appreciate  the  fine 
5 


74  PAUL     REDDING. 

arts,)  you  may  be  inclined  to  become  the  possessor 
of  something  in  my  line." 

Paul  followed  the  artist,  and  they  entered  a  dark 
little  room  on  the  third  floor  of  a  very  old,  rusty 
building.  The  sanctum  where  Mr.  Scrapp  gave 
birth  to  his  immense  ideas,  was  a  remarkably 
sombre  place,  the  light  being  only  admitted  through 
a  small  oval  aperture ;  and  the  air  was  strongly 
scented  with  that  pleasantest  of  all  perfumes,  the 
stale  smoke  of  a  cigar.  Around  the  walls  hung 
the  productions  of  the  renowned  caricaturist.  Here 
was  a  figure,  almost  as  tall  as  the  spade  he  held, 
standing  in  a  pair  of  immense  shoes ;  the  artist  in 
formed  Paul  that  that  picture  was  symbolical  of  the 
true  friends  of  their  country,  who,  with  their  great 
understandings,  were  about  to  dig  the  grave  of  the 
administration.  Paul  suggested  that  he  supposed 
the  adjoining  sketch,  a  very  squat  figure,  repre 
sented  as  standing  on  his  head,  was  symbolical  of 
the  rise  of  great  understandings.  "  No,"  said  the 
artist;  "I  thought  you  would  recognise  that;  not 
to  know  that  celebrated  satire,  sir,  argues  yourself 
—  hem  —  of  course  it  does!  That  picture  has 
struck  terror  into  the  opposite  party  ;  yes,  sir,  they 
grew  pale  with  horror!  It  was  quite  terrible,  I 
assure  you.  The  president  offered  me  one  of  the 
best  offices  in  his  control,  if  I  would  only  consent 
to  withhold  those  withering  productions,  in  future, 
from  the  public.  But,  no,  sir,  I  am  not  to  be 
bought;  no,  sir,  I  am  true,  true.  I  feel  it  here, 


PAUL     REDDING.  75 

here  in  my  heart,  that  I  am  true,  —  not  to  be 
bought."  Here  Mr.  Scrapp  knocked  at  his  breast 
several  times,  as  if  he  would  have  his  heart  speak 
for  itself,  and  establish  its  truth  beyond  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt ;  but  the  knocking  only  called  up  a 
cough,  and  Mr.  Scrapp  changed  the  subject. 

"  Here  are  the  productions  of  my  pupils ;  but 
none  of  them,  you  will  observe,  equal  mine  in 
grace  of  outline,  or  beauty  of  execution.  One  man 
only  out  of  a  hundred  —  yes,  I  might  say  out  of  a 
thousand  — has  the  capabilities  to  become  an  artist. 
I  flatter  myself  that  /  happen  to  be  that  lucky  one  ! 
Still,  it  is  necessary  for  any  man  to  study  the  art, 
very  necessary !  My  system  of  teaching  is  very 
remarkable  ;  it  is  simple,  expeditious,  yet  complete. 
You  would  be  surprised  to  see  with  what  facility 
my  instructions  are  given ;  perspective,  architecture, 
and  the  human  figure  are  all  taught  at  one  lesson ! 
The  young  gentleman  or  lady,  as  the  case  may  be 
—  I  prefer  the  latter —  sits  down  and  takes  a  pencil. 
I  take  his  or  her  hand  in  mine ;  and,  without  the 
least  premeditation,  make  a  spot  in  the  middle  of 
the  paper,  thus;  that  is  the  point  of  sight;  now  I 
draw  two  lines  from  the  spot  to  the  left  corner, 
then  two  to  the  right,  thus ;  at  this  corner  I  make, 
with  a  few  hasty  touches,  a  house,  and  there,  in  the 
distance,  another  —  a  very  small  house  —  thus; 
here  I  draw  the  figure  of  a  man  —  the  man  is  a 
little  too  tall— add  another  story  to  the  house,  thus  ; 
that  makes  it !  There,  sir,  is  a  composition  com- 


76  PAUL     REDDING. 

prising  all  the  elements  of  art,  and  executed  with 
out  the  least  premeditation!  By  this  time,  the 
pupil  is  master  of  perspective,  architecture,  and  the 
human  figure.  Astonishing,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Very  !  "  replied  Paul. 

"  Peculiar  ? " 

"  Quite  so." 

"  And  original !  " 

"  Undoubtedly ! " 

"  Permit  me  to  examine  your  head.  Perceptive 
organs,  immense  ;  constructiveness,  large;  destruc- 
tiveness,  very  large ;  mirthfulness,  full ;  color, 
ditto!  Young  man,  you  are  an  artist  by  nature! 
fact,  I  assure  you !  Put  yourself  under  my  direc 
tion,  and  you  may  yet  astonish  the  world."  Paul 
thanked  Mr.  Scrapp  for  his  good  opinion,  and  ob 
served,  that  if  he  could  find  sufficient  leisure  from 
other  employments,  hereafter,  nothing  would  give 
him  greater  delight  than  to  pursue  the  study  of 
art.  "  If  I  succeed,"  said  the  young  man,  "  in  my 
present  mission  to  a  gentleman  that  I  am  in  search 
of,  perhaps  I  may  call  on  you  again.  Can  you  tell 
me  where  I  may  find  the  establishment  of  Nathaniel 
Munson  ? " 

"  Old  stingy  Nat,  I  think  you  mean  ?  O,  yes, 
he  keeps  just  below  here.  Drop  into  the  meanest- 
looking  shop  that  you  can  find  ;  you  can't  mistake 
the  place." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Paul,  as  he  took  his 
leave,  not  a  little  damped  in  his  hopes,  and  bent  his 


PAUL     REDDING.  77 

steps  to  the  place  before  mentioned.  He  found, 
somewhat  to  his  surprise,  that  Nathaniel  Munson 
was  the  same  little  shrivelled-up  Quaker  that  had 
attracted  his  attention,  a  few  evenings  before,  in 
the  restaurateur.  Paul  handed  him  a  note  from 
Fitful,  and  the  old  man,  without  taking  any  par 
ticular  notice  of  the  youth,  opened  it,  and  glancing 
hastily  over  the  contents,  ejaculated,  in  a  dissatis 
fied  tone,  "  Humph,  boy,  art  thou  a  great  eater?  " 
and  he  peered  with  his  mean  little  gray  eyes  very 
sharply  at  the  youth,  as  he  waited  for  an  answer. 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  cannot  answer  that  question," 
replied  Paul,  with  a  smile,  "  for  I  am  ignorant  of 
what  your  ideas  of  a  great  eater  are." 

"  How  many  meals  does  thee  require  per  day  ? 
how  many  ?  " 

"  Three,  usually,"  was  the  decisive  answer. 

"  Three  !  what  extravagance  !  two  are  plenty, 
young  man;  and  remember,  the  short  days  are 
coming  on ;  breakfast  and  supper  will  be  quite 
sufficient.  Let  me  see  —  lodging,  too  !  Does  thee 
not  think  that  asking  too  much  ?  " 

"  No,  sir !  "  said  Paul,  very  emphatically. 

"  Very  well ;  what  is  thy  Christian  name  ?  " 

"Paul,  sir." 

"Hem  —  a  very  good  scripture  name,  that ;  no 
doubt  thee  is  honest.  John,  show  this  young  man 
his  duty.  There,  get  thee  to  work,  boy;  I  shall 
love  thee,  if  thee  is  honest  and  industrious." 

From  the  expression  of  Mr.  Munson's  face,  just 


78  PAUL     REDDING. 

at  that  moment,  you  might  have  imagined  that  he 
loved  the  boy  already  very  much !  and  would,  in 
future,  take  care  that  the  youth  was  provided  for ! 

"  So,  so,  Mr.  Paul,"  exclaimed  the  before-men 
tioned  John,  "  old  Broad-Brim  has  found  somebody 
to  come  to  his  terms  at  last,  has  he  ?  Well,  I  'm 
blessed  glad  o'  that !  But  how  on  'arth  did  you 
strike  a  bargain  with  the  old  parchment  ?  " 

"  Why?  "  asked  Paul,  affecting  some  surprise. 

"Why!  Lord  bless  you,  you  don't  know  the 
old  'un,  then !  I  tell  you  what,  my  friend,  that  old 
skin-flint  used  to  belong  to  a  society  called  the 
'Penny  Catcher  Tight  Grip  Club.'  The  leanest, 
meanest  member  was  always  entitled  to  the  chair ; 
of  course,  old  Munson  always  had  it.  But  now  — 
and  he  grows  very  melancholy  and  lonely,  some 
times,  to  think  of  it  —  he  is  the  only  surviving  mem 
ber  ;  all  the  others  died  of  starvation ;  but  bless 
you,  they  hadn't  such  constitutions  as  our  old 
man 's  got  —  there  aint  no  die  to  him  —  he  's  too 
mean  to  pay  the  debt  o'  natur.  What !  old  Split-fip 
ever  die  ?  No,  no !  he  '11  dwindle  down  to  a 
shadow,  a  very  small,  mean  shadow,  and  then  slip 
into  some  rich  gentleman's  coffin,  and  enjoy  the 
luxury  of  a  handsome  burial,  all  at  somebody  else' 
expense ! 

"  But  I  reckon  you  haint  seen  little  Edith,  yet  ? 
of  course  not.  Well,  to  my  thinking,  there  aint  a 
girl  in  town  a  touch  to  Edith  Munson.  Her  hair  is 
light,  her  eyes  blue ;  not  a  bright  sky  blue,  nor 


PAUL    REDDING.  79 

dark  blue,  but  a  kind  o'  twilight  blue.  They  do  n't 
bore  right  through  one,  as  some  eyes  do,  making 
one  wish  they  were  dead,  but  they  kind  o'  melt 
right  in  so  tenderly,  that  it  makes  a  fellow  feel  so 
happy  he  wants  to  kiss  all  creation.  That 's  what 
I  calls  being  in  love." 

When  Paul  repaired  to  the  residence  of  Nathaniel 
Munson,  that  evening,  he  was  conducted,  by  the 
above-mentioned  Edith,  (who,  in  every  particular, 
fully  came  up  to  the  glowing  description  that  John 
had  given  of  her,)  into  a  little  room,  which,  al 
though  meanly  furnished,  was  extremely  neat  and 
clean.  The  young  man  observed  that  preparations 
had  been  made  to  receive  him  to  tea,  and  he  was 
not  displeased  with  the  appearance  which  things 
presented. 

"  Take  a  seat,  if  you  please,  sir.  Father  did  not 
tell  me  that  you  were  coming,  until  a  few  moments 
since,  or  perhaps  we  might  have  been  a  little  better 
prepared,"  said  the  maiden,  as  she  hurried  away  to 
bring  in  the  tea.  "  Well,"  thought  Paul,  "  this  is 
not  so  bad  as  I  had  anticipated." 

"I  see,"  said  the  same  sweet  voice  of  little 
Edith,  as  she  filled  the  young  man's  cup,  "  I  see 
that  your  attention  is  attracted  by  the  strange  ap 
pearance  of  that  poor  woman  who  stands  gazing  in 
at  the  window.  You  will  please  not  to  be  aston 
ished  at  any  thing  which  she  may  do.  Poor  crea 
ture  !  she  has  had  a  deal  of  trouble ;  has  been 
deranged  for  many  years,  but  is  entirely  harmless. 


80  PAUL     REDDING. 

We  call  her  c  good  Mary.'  She  has  a  kind  heart, 
poor  thing,  notwithstanding  that  she  acts  somewhat 
strangely  at  times  ;  but  you  will  soon  get  used  to 
that,  and  not  mind  her.  She  has  lived  with  us  ever 
since  my  own  mother  died.  Indeed,  I  believe  I 
should  play  the  child  and  weep,  if  Mary  should 
leave  us.  She  has  always  been  so  very  kind  to 
me,  that  I  think  I  love  her  quite  as  well  as  I  could 
my  own  mother." 

"Ah,"  answered  Paul,  with  a  sigh ;  "  is  there, 
then,  any  one  in  the  world  who  can  fill  the  place 
of  a  mother  ?  " 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Edith,  while  a  tear  trembled 
in  her  eye,  "  I  do  n't  know  ;  I  have  scarcely  any 
recollections  of  rny  own  mother ;  but  I  do  n't  think 
I  could  have  loved  her  much  better  than  I  love 
poor  Mary." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Oh  how  he  burned  with  fierce,  poetic  fire  I 
Himself  a  satyr,  and  his  verse  satire. 

ANOJT. 

THE  day  following  Paul  Redding's  installation  at 
Mr.  Munson's,  he  entered  as  a  student  the  sanctum 
of  Mr.  Scrapp.  He  found  that  gentleman  engaged 
in  transferring  from  his  well-stored  imagination  a 
human  figure  ;  for  so  he  called  it. 

"  Young  gentleman,"  said  Mr.  Scrapp,  "  give  me 


Ul 

PAUL     REDDING.   '  81 

v\     T' 

your  attention  for  a  moment.  Here  is  a  human 
figure.  I  am  about  to  explain  to  you  some  of  the 
fundamental  principles  of  the  art.  You  observe 
that  I  am  not  trammeled  with  any  of  those  super 
fluous  rules  in  drawing  which  Sir  Joshua  and  others 
have  laid  down  as  the  standard.  No,  sir,  they  were 
all  humbugs !  What  did  they  know  more  about 
the  human  figure  than  I  do?  Was  nature  any 
more  nature  then  than  it  is  now?  Hang  their 
rules,  they  always  put  me  out,  as.Fuseli  once  said  ; 
a  remark  that  in  my  opinion  was  sufficient  of  itself 
to  immortalize  the  author.  So  I  say,  hang  their 
rules ;  I  have  found  a  system  of  my  own,  in  which 
you  will  observe  that  I  am  neither  a  slave  to  nature 
nor  the  old  masters.  In  my  rules  for  drawing  a 
figure,  as  in  this  case,  the  head  forms  one  sixteenth 
part  of  the  body  ;  the  arms,  when  extended,  are 
half  as  long  again  as  the  whole  length  of  the  per 
son  ;  while  the  hand  is  half  the  length  of  the  arm  ; 
and  every  foot  is  a  foot  and  a  half.  You  see  that 
my  system  is  at  once  simple,  striking,  and  original !  " 

"  Very  !  "  replied  Paul. 

"  But, hark  !  "  said  Mr.  Scrapp;  "  somebody  is  at 
the  door.  Go  and  see  who  it  is  ;  remember,  if  it  is 
a  suspicious-looking  man,  a  collector,  I  mean,  do  n't 
admit  him  ;  I  'm  out !  "  And  he  slipped  very 
dexterously  behind  a  screen,  while  Paul  opened  the 
door. 

"  Is  Scrapp  in  ?  "  said  an  ill-looking  man,  with 
very  red  whiskers  and  rank  beard.  Paul  thought 


82  PAUL    REDDING. 

that  the  stranger  was  rather  suspicious-looking,  but 
would  n't  lie  even  to  shield  the  renowned  carica 
turist  ;  therefore  he  replied,  "  Yes,  sir,  he  is  in,  but 
I  believe  is  engaged." 

"  What  do  I  care,"  said  the  man,  walking  boldly 
into  the'  room.  "  He  is  very  suspicious-looking," 
thought  Paul,  "  but  it  could  n't  be  helped." 

"Ah,  my  dear  Gall,  I  'm  rejoiced  to  see  you  !  " 
said  Scrapp,  stepping  forth  from  the  screen. 

"  I  've  a  job  for  you,  Scrapp,"  said  Mr.  Gall. 

"  I  'm  delighted  to  hear  it !  what  sort  of  a  job  ? 
Any  thing  in  this  way,  eh  ?  "  as  he  spoke,  he  flour 
ished  his  pencil  in  the  air,  with  great  significance. 

"  You  sometimes  write  satires,  eh  ?  " 

"  Oh,  frequently." 

"  Very  well,  sir,  I  want  a  few  caustic  lines  em 
bodying  the  ideas  that  you  will  find  on  this  scrap  of 
paper.  Do  it,  sir,  and  five  dollars  shall  be  your 
reward!  Make  that  fellow  who  dares  to  write 
poetry  wish  he  had  never  been  born !  do  it,  and 
five  dollars  will  reward  your  labors  !  " 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Mr.  Scrapp,  making  the  late  pro 
duction  of  his  pencil  fly  across  the  room.  "  To-day 
is  Saturday.  Let  me  see,  say  on  Monday;  yes,  you 
shall  have  it  on  Monday." 

"  Very  well,  sir ;  only  make  the  fellow  wish  that 
he  had  never  been  born,  that 's  all !  " 

"  Never  fear ;  I  '11  do  it !  " 

"  On  Monday  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Monday  !  " 


PAUL     REDDING. 


83 


"  Good  day,  Scrapp." 

«  Good  bye,  Gall." 

Mr.  Scrapp  lost  no  time  in  seating  himself  before 
a  piece  of  virgin  paper ;  and  he  was  soon  plunged 
in  the  most  profound  meditation.  For  a  long  time 
did  he  remain  in  that  situation,  without  giving  any 
signs  of  animation  ;  at  last,  however,  his  lips  began 
to  move,  as  if  he  communed  inwardly,  with  spirits, 
(very  likely  he  did.)  Paul  was  strongly  reminded 
of  a  line  by  Wordsworth, 

"And  Johnny's  lips,  they  burr,  burr,  burr  I  " 

In  the  course  of  time,  the  word  poem  escaped 
from  the  mouth  of  the  inspired  satirist ;  faintly,  at 
first,  but,  as  the  storm  thickened,  it  grew  louder  and 
louder,  until,  at  last,  burst  out,  "  Poem !  poern ! 
poem  !  hide  your  works  !  Oh,  never,  never,  nev — er 

—  blood  and  thunder  !"  cried  he ;  at  the  same  time, 
striking  his  pencil  on  the  table  with  great  despera 
tion,  he   addressed   Paul,    saying,    "  Come,   young 
man,  what  rhymes  with  po  ?  "     The  youth  answer 
ed,  "flow,  go,  wo — " 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  "  cried  the  other,  eagerly  ;  "  not 
so  fast.  I  want  time  to  think  as  you  go  along. 
Now  for  it!"  Paul  continued,  "Sow,  row,  throw 

—  "     "  There,  now,  hold  up  a  minute,  will  you  !  " 
Mr.  Scrapp  looked  at  the  floor,  scratched  his  head, 
and  bit  his  nails  ;    then  turning  his   inspired  orbs 
towards  that  little  oval  streak  of  daylight,  he  ex 
claimed, — 


84  PAUL    REDDING. 

"  Whene'er  you  undertake  to  do  a  poem, 

Hide  your  works,  Oh  do  n't  you  never  throw  'em 

Out —  in  —  before  —  " 

But  it  was  no  use  !  The  enraged  satirist  caught 
his  hat,  and  rushed  out  of  the  room.  He  dashed 
down  Second  street,  and  plunged  headlong  into  a 
coffee-house,  where  he  was  pretty  certain  of  finding 
his  friend,  Mr.  Inkleton  ;  he  seized  and  dragged 
that  poetical  gentleman  precipitously  away ;  nor 
did  he  attempt  any  explanation,  until  he  succeeded 
in  thrusting  the  poet,  head  first,  into  his  studio. 
After  dismissing  Paul,  those  two  hopefuls  sat  in 
solemn  conclave  for  twenty-four  hours,  uninterrupt 
ed  by  any  one  during  the  whole,  if  we  except  a  boy, 
that  on  Saturday  afternoon  delivered  to  them  a  well- 
filled  demijohn.  Mr.  Inkleton,  it  is  said,  spoiled 
several  quires  of  paper  with  his  immense  labors ; 
and,  on  Monday  morning,  precisely  at  three  o'clock, 
kicked  the  empty  jug  across  the  room,  with  an 
imprecation,  and  read,  to  the  infinite  delight  of  his 
companion,  some  lines,  which,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  days,  appeared  in  one  of  the  leading  papers, 
and  created  a  great  sensation  in  the  select  circle  of 
three  persons  ;  namely,  Mr.  Gall  and  the  co-authors. 


CHAPTER    X. 

"  My  mother's  form  in  dim  outline 

Is  floating  near  me  now, 
I  feel  her  fond  arms  round  me  twine, 

Her  breath  upon  my  brow." 

MARY  MATHER. 

SEVERAL  weeks  had  already  elapsed  since  Paul 
had  taken  up  his  residence  in  the  house  of  Nathan 
iel  Munson.  One  evening,  as  the  twilight  was 
gathering  fast,  he  and  Edith  sat  together  at  the 
casement  of  the  little  parlor,  that  looked  out  upon 
the  street.  He  had  been  making  a  sketch  of  her, 
as  she  sat  reading.  The  liquid  blue  eyes  cast  down 
beneath  their  long  flaxen  fringes,  the  delicate  oval 
face,  from  which  the  hair  was  gathered  simply 
back,  the  small  dimpled  hand  laid  upon  the  white 
page,  and  added  to  all  this  the  plain  Quaker  attire, 
formed  a  subject  worthy  of  a  more  skilful  pencil 
than  that  which  now  attempted  to  transcribe  it. 
This,  Paul  was  sensible  of,  and  he  no  sooner  finish 
ed  the  drawing,  than  he  destroyed  it. 

"  Edith,"  said  he,  "  think  you  I  shall  ever  be  an 
artist  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do,  Paul,  otherwise  I  would  advise 
you  to  abandon  all  thoughts  of  art,  and  go  imme 
diately  to  hard  labor." 

"  To  hard  labor,  indeed !  think  you  that  the 
artist  lives  the  life  of  luxury  and  ease !  Oh,  no, 
Edith.  To  pursue  art,  is  to  pursue  early  toil  and 


86  PAUL     REDDING. 

late  watching,  and  too  often  obscurity,  poverty  and 
want.  The  artist  must  grow  pale  over  his  pencil, 
he  must  gird  himself  well  for  the  long  ordeal,  if  he 
would  be  a  great  artist.  But  then  how  ennobling 
the  ambition,  to  pursue  a  great  object  through  years 
of  perpetual  darkness,  to  grapple  even  with  the 
lean  hounds  of  poverty,  and  come  out  at  last  bright, 
though  worn  down  with  the  conflict !  The  thing  is 
achieved  !  and  what  is  the  sacrifice  of  this  poor 
mortality  when  compared  with  immortality  !  What 
though  RaffaePs  body  fell  away  in  early  life,  in  his 
works  he  still  lives,  and  must  live  through  all  time. 
How  much  shorter  is  the  existence  of  the  centena 
rian  that  has  lived  without  any  exalted  aim,  who 
dies,  is  buried  and  forgotten  !  " 

"  Is  art,  then,  so  difficult  ? "  said  Edith,  with  an 
expression  of  terror. 

"  So  indeed  it  would  appear  from  the  biography 
of  almost  all  that  have  ever  excelled  in  it." 

"And  so  fatal  ?  " 

"  Not  always  necessarily  fatal ;  many  have  lived 
to  be  quite  aged,  the  fates,  as  it  were,  allowing 
them  more  time  wherein  to  achieve  their  greatness. 
The  brightest  blaze  is  the  soonest  exhausted." 

"And  you  intend  to  endure  all  these  things  that 
you  have  named  for  the  sake  of  painting  pic 
tures  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Edith,  such  has  always  been  my  deter 
mination." 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  your  abilities, 


PAUL     REDDING.  87 

Paul,"  said  Edith,  with  a  sigh  ;  "I  think  you'capable 
enough  ;  but — " 

"  Well,  proceed,  I  shall  be  glad  to  hear  your 
objections." 

"  I  think  that  you  might  be  so  comfortable  and 
happy  in  some  simpler  pursuit." 

"  Pardon  me,  Edith,  for  differing  with  you  on 
that  point.  What  is  comfort  or  happiness  ?  It  is 
to  gratify  the  cravings  of  our  highest  nature,  which 
is  the  soul,  and  the  commands  of  the  soul  are  im 
perative  ;  disregard  them  and  we  must  be  unhappy; 
obey  them  and  we  are  rewarded  even  in  the  act." 

"  That  is  very  true,  I  did  n't  think  of  it  before  ; 
but  then  your  enthusiasm  is  so  strong,  that  you,  I 
fear,  are  in  danger  of  becoming  too  early  a  prey  to 
it.  Already  I  can  see,  or  imagine  that  I  see  the 
color  leaving  your  cheeks ;  and  every  morning  the 
empty  lamp  tells  a  tale  of  studies  protracted  to  a 
very  late  hour." 

"  It  is  an  old  custom  of  mine.  Reading  and 
drawing  have  been  to  me,  essentially  a  second  life, 
and  to  resign  one,  it  seems  would  be  to  resign  both. 
Often,  when  a  mere  boy  of  ten  or  twelve,  I  have 
wandered  away  to  the  hills,  and  amid  haunts  where 
man  seldom  strayed,  there  would  I  pass  the  day  in 
making  sketches,  perchance,  of  some  peculiar  tree, 
crag,  waterfall,  and  mountain,  and  then  amuse 
myself  by  fantastically  weaving  them  into  one.  I 
have  wandered  abroad  beneath  the  silent  stars, 
through  dense  woods,  down  by  level  meadows,  and 


88  PAUL     REDDING. 

sat  on  the  rocks  beside  the  river,  to  listen  to  the 
thousand  beautiful  voices  that  darkness  and  wild- 
ness  only  have.  And  none  but  those  who  have 
done  the  same,  know  any  thing  of  the  bewitching 
spell  of  night,  or  the  enchantment  of  solitude." 

"  But  come,  Paul,"  said  Edith,  "  you  have  never 
told  me  any  thing  of  your  parents.  Talk  to  me  of 
your  mother.  I  am  sure  that  you  must  still  love 
her  memory." 

The  young  man  leant  his  forehead  on  his  hand, 
and  mused  for  some  moments ;  not,  however,  to 
conjure  up  some  scene  of  his  childhood  where  his 
mother  appeared  prominent, .  for  he  remembered 
but  one  wherein  he  could  yet  call  up  that  loved 
face  to  the  eye  of  memory. 

"  There  is  but  one  incident  that  I  can  recollect," 
said  Paul,  at  last,  with  a  sigh,  "  in  which  I  can  yet 
distinguish  my  mother,  and  that  scene  is  too  pain 
ful  ;  you  would  shudder  to  hear  it." 

"  Pray  go  on,"  said  Edith,  eagerly. 

"  It  was  a  dark,  stormy  night,"  continued  Paul. 
"The  winter  winds  were  howling  fearfully  around 
our  country  habitation ;  but  a  broad  sheet  of  flame 
went  up  the  ample  old-fashioned  fireplace,  and  cast 
a  feverish  glare  over  the  room.  My  mother,  I  can 
see  her  yet,  passing  to  and  fro  with  the  little  babe 
in  her  arms,  preparing  the  evening  meal.  She 
was  not  tall,  but  yet  was  slender,  and,  as  I  recol 
lect,  quite  good-looking.  On  one  side  of  the  fire 
place  sat  my  father,  while,  at  the  opposite  side, 


PAUL     REDDING.  89 

stood  a  short,  dark,  ill-looking  man,  of  whom  all 
seemed  to  hold  a  continual  dread.  An  iron  hook 
supplied  the  place  of  his  right  arm,  which  had  been 
amputated  at  the  elbow.  The  prominence  of  his 
cheek-bones  and  jagged  brows  formed  between 
them  deep  valleys,  wherein  were  situated  two 
fiendish  eyes,  that  seemed  to  shrink  from  the  light 
as  it  were  their  deadliest  enemy.  Long,  thin, 
straggling  locks  of  hair,  sprinkled  with  gray,  hung 
down  about  his  face  ;  and,  in  short,  he  was  such  a 
character  as  you  would  tremble  to  meet  with  in 
any  unfrequented  place.  How  distinctly  I  can  still 
see  my  dear  mother  passing  back  and  forth  through 
the  apartment.  And  all  of  the  furniture  of  that  one 
room,  too,  as  it  appeared  on  that  night;  the  old 
muskets,  powder-horns,  and  many  other  similar 
articles,  hanging  or  leaning  against  the  wall,  all 
glistening  in  the  fire  light,  and  projecting  their  long 
shadows ;  it  seems,  in  effect,  like  a  picture  by  Rem- 
brant. 

"  When  the  supper  was  spread  upon  the  table, 
Fin,  (for  such  was  the  ill-looking  man's  name,)  sat 
himself  greedily  to  work,  and  appropriated  the 
different  articles  of  food  to  himself,  at  a  most  aston 
ishing  rate.  My  father  rested  his  elbow  on  the 
back  of  the  chair,  his  chin  on  his  hand,  and  mutter 
ed  something  inaudible  between  his  teeth. 

"  Fin  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  fixed  his  fiend 
ish  eye  on  my  father,  and  with  a  sarcastic  smile, 
exclaimed,  '  What 's  the  matter,  eh  ?  have  you  lost 
your  appetite  ? ' 


90  PAUL     REDDING. 

"  My  father  made  no  answer ;  but  turned  his 
back  to  Fin,  who,  looking  around  at  me,  met  the 
indignant  gaze  of  my  mother.  He  smiled  more 
hideously  than  ever  ;  and  raising  his  ponderous  eye 
brows,  beckoned  me  to  his  side. 

" '  Come  here,  Paul,'  said  he,  'come  here  ! '  his 
evil  eye  was  upon  me,  and  I  could  not  but  obey. 
Reaching  forth  the  iron  hook,  he  drew  me  close  to 
his  side. 

"  '  What  is  the  matter,  Paul  ? '  ejaculated  he, '  are 
you  afraid  of  me,  eh  ? '  and  he  put  his  face  close  to 
mine,  repeating  '  are  you  afraid,  Paul  ?  '  I  turned 
my  head  away,  and  answered,  '  yes.' 

"  '  I  thought  so,'  replied  he,  with  a  fiendish  smile, 
1  afraid  of  Fin,  afraid  he  '11  hurt  you.  Who  taught 
you  to  fear  me,  eh  ? '  As  he  spoke,  he  cast  his 
malicious  eyes  back  and  forth,  alternately,  from  my 
father  to  my  mother.  '  Yes,'  continued  he,  '  they 
taught  you  to  fear,  and  to  hate  Fin  !  They  hate 
Fin  ! '  as  he  said  this,  he  laughed  through  his  clench 
ed  teeth,  and  rubbed  the  iron  hook,  fiendishly, 
across  the  table.  '  Oh,  how  they  hate  Fin  ! '  cried 
he  again,  in  a  voice  that  startled  even  my  father, 
who,  with  eyes  flashing  with  anger,  turned  abruptly 
around,  and  stared  Fin  full  in  the  face. 

"  '  HE  hates  Fin,'  screamed  the  ugly  man,  and, 

at  the  same  time,  pointed  the  hook  towards  my 

father,  to   designate   who  he   meant.     '  Fin  knows 

too  much  !   he  has  a  secret !   a  dreadful  secret ! ' 

" i  FIN  ! '  cried  my  father,  mounting  to  his  feet, 


PAUL     REDDING.  91 

and  grasping  a  chair,  '  Fin!  you  infernal  dog,  if  you 
do  n't  hold  your  tongue,  I  '11  — '  '  Murder  me  ! ' 
screamed  Fin,  finishing  the  sentence.  '  Murder ! 
ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  've  got  a  secret,  mind  you  ! '  And 
Fin  leaned  over  the  table,  and  leered  up  in  my 
father's  face.  '  The  old  man,  he  was  asleep,  he 
never  woke  after,  did  he  ?  The  money,  too,  the 
chest!  ha,  ha, ha  ! '  My  father's  eyes  flashed,  and 
bursting  with  fury,  he  hurled  the  chair  at  the  head 
of  Fin,  who,  stunned  by  the  blow,  rolled  with  a 
fearful  howl  to  the  floor. 

"  '  Oh,  what  have  you  done  ? '  cried  my  mother. 
'  Done  ! '  ejaculated  my  father,  '  killed  a  villain ! ' ' 

Just  at  this  point  of  the  story,  Paul  and  Edith 
were  both  startled  by  a  heavy  crash  at  their  side  ; 
and  suddenly  looking  around,  they  beheld  the  poor 
house-keeper,  Mary,  with  her  hands  thrown  up, 
staring  at  them,  seeming  entirely  unconscious  of 
the  half  a  dozen  broken  dishes  at  her  feet.  "  What 
in  the  world  's  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Edith.  Poor 
Mary,  as  if  struggling  with  her  senses,  at  last  made 
out  to  exclaim,  "  Why  !  why  !  I  was  just  thinking 
what  an  ugly  man  that  Fin  was  ; "  and  continuing 
to  murmur  strange  words  to  herself,  she  began  very 
coolly  to  collect  the  fragments  of  Mr.  Munson's 
best  tea-plates ;  and  gathering  up  the  very  smallest 
pieces,  she  went  and  deposited  them  carefully  in 
the  closet,  as  if  they  were  yet  as  valuable  as  ever. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

c  So  cunningly  the  miser  plans  his  plot, 
The  de'il  must  smile  upon  his  protege, 
And  leave  him  midst  his  own  dark  villainy, 
Nor  wish  a  meaner  hypocrite  to  hold 
The  agency  of  hell !" 


DAYTON. 


POOR  Mary,  as  she  was  familiarly  called,  was 
a  most  singular  creature  ;  her  countenance  invari 
ably  wore  a  vacant  expression,  and  all  of  her 
movements  were  so  uncertain,  many  of  them  un 
meaning,  that  they  seemed  to  be  directed  rather  by 
a  dim  instinct,  than  by  any  gleams  of  reason. 
Such  had  been  her  character  for  years  ;  long,  blank 
years  they  must  have  been  to  that  almost  inanimate 
creature.  Let  those  who  crushed  the  flower  tell 
how  many  dreary  years  it  had  been  since  they  left 
the  leafless  stalk  to  sway  listlessly  in  the  winds ! 
But  of  late,  it  seemed  as  though  a  light  had  been 
struggling  to  break  through  the  mists  that  shrouded 
her  poor  mind ;  and  she  moved  somewhat  less 
methodically,  her  actions  appeared  to  be  more  the 
effect  of  impulse,  and  her  gaze  grew  less  vacant. 
This  change,  though  but  a  slight  one  indeed, 
escaped  not  the  observation  of  little  Edith ;  nor  was 
it  unnoticed  by  Fitful,  the  melancholy  state  of 
whose  own  mind  but  ill  fitted  him  to  discover  the 
wavering  of  another.  But  step  aside,  poor  Mary, 
for  awhile ;  step  aside,  thou  broken-hearted  thing ! 


PAUL     REDDING.  93 

while  we  usher  upon  the  stage  those  who,  with  all 
their  quantum  of  reason,  are  far  from  being  thy 
peers !  whose  souls  are  bound  to  earth  by  a  thou 
sand  chains  of  selfishness  and  guilt,  whilst  thine 
stands  waiting,  as  it  has  done  this  many  a  day,  to 
depart  (when  the  angel  shall  beckon)  for  its  bright 
home. 

Some  hours  had  elapsed  after  the  recital  of 
Paul's  story,  when  two  men  glided  cautiously  into 
the  residence  of  Nathaniel  Munson,  and  ascending 
a  couple  of  dark  flights  of  stairs,  passed  into  a  little 
room,  and  carefully  fastened  the  door  behind  them. 
One  of  these  persons  was  a  short,  stout  man,  of 
about  sixty  years  of  age  ;  his  ill-shaperi  features 
were  dark  and  weatherbeaten  ;  he  wore  a  seaman's 
jacket  that  had  evidently  been  made  for  a  much 
taller  individual ;  his  broad  checkered  collar  was 
thrown  open,  displaying  a  short,  muscular  neck, 
and  his  appearance  altogether  gave  strong  indica 
tions  that  his  vocation  was  that  of  a  marine. 

"There,  stand  still  by  the  door  till  I  strike  a 
light,"  said  his  companion.  When  the  stump  of  a 
tallow  candle,  that  was  stuck  in  a  little  rusty  candle 
stick,  was  lighted,  the  dim  blaze  flickered  on  the 
shrivelled  features  of  the  old  Quaker,  Nathaniel 
Munson.  There  was  a  grim  look  of  satisfaction  on 
his  countenance  as  he  passed  a  backless  chair  to 
his  companion  and  invited  him  to  be  seated,  but 
that  expression  gave  place  to  another,  a  little  less 
satisfied,  when  the  stranger,  with  a  curse,  kicked 


94  PAUL     REDDING. 

the  chair  aside,  and  mounted  himself  on  the  top  of 
an  old,  strongly-bound  chest,  and,  with  a  malicious 
grin,  rapped  on  the  lid  with  the  iron  hook  that  was 
appended  to  his  right  arm  in  lieu  of  a  hand,  and 
exclaimed,  "  No,  no,  my  old  comrade,  rickety 
crickets  and  chairs  for  land-lubbers,  but  give  me  a 
seat  on  the  old  chest  that  looks  rusty  on  the  outside 
but  bright  inside ;  it  does  one  good  to  be  near  it, 
you  know,  comrade  ;  ah,  ha,  ha,  ho,  ho  !  "  Here 
the  old  sailor  rapped  so  loud  on  the  lid  with  the 
hook,  and  glanced  at  the  Quaker  with  so  much 
significance,  that  Munson  trembled  with  terror,  and 
begged  him  to  be  quiet,  lest  he  might  alarm  the 
house. 

"  You  're  afraid  that  I  might  disturb  some  of  these 
bright  little  fellows  in  here,  too,  aint  you,  eh  ?  " 

"  O  no,  no,  no  ! "  exclaimed  the  Quaker,  with 
great  earnestness ;  "  there  is  n't  any  thing  there, 
nothing  in  the  world  but  rubbish.  Besides,  thee 
knows  (and  here  he  assumed  a  very  meek  face)  I 
am  a  poor  man,  not  worth  a  cent  when  my  debts 
are  paid  —  not  a  cent.  Thee  knows  that  my  purse- 
strings  have  always  been  too  loose  to  keep  money ; 
think  what  sums  I  have  paid  thee,  and  made  my 
self  very  poor  to  do  it,  very  poor !  Thee  knows  I 
am  thy  only  friend,  and  am  willing  to  do  a  little 
yet,  a  very  little,  for  I  ani  poor !  " 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  speech,  Munson  puck 
ered  his  face  up  into  the  meanest  expression  pos 
sible,  dropped  it  into  his  neck-cloth,  and  peered  at 


PAUL     REDDING.  95 

his  companion  through  his  straggling  eyebrows, 
while  the  other  replied,  "  Curse  your  '  thee's,'  and 
your  meek  Quaker  face  ;  drop  'em  at  once,  for  you 
always  mean  some  bloody  rascality  when  you  take 
to  'em ;  so  talk  up  like  a  man,  and  tell  me  what 
your  're  a  going  to  give  to  get  rid  of  this  boy  ?  " 

"  Not  so  loud  !  "  said  Munson,  imploringly. 

"  Well,  then,  how  much  ?  "  exclaimed  the  other, 
in  the  loudest  whisper  possible. 

"  Could  n't  thee  do  it  for  old  acquaintance'  sake, 
eh  ?  "  said  the  Quaker,  assuming  a  very  affectionate 
tone. 

"  O,  certainly ! "  answered  the  sailor,  with  a 
fiendish  grin  ;  "  our  acquaintance  has  been  so  very 
pleasant,  so  bloody  pleasant,  and  profitable  to  me 
in  particular,  you  know !  " 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  said  Munson,  drawing  his  chair 
nearer  to  the  other ;  "  thee  knows  we  have  been 
like  brothers ! " 

"  Yes,  comrade,"  was  the  reply,  "  brothers  in 
bloody  crimes  !  And  I  've  had  enough  of  'em, 
unless  you  can  talk  up  to  a  lively  tune  with  these 
here  musicians."  As  he  spoke,  he  brought  a  very 
loud  rap  on  the  top  of  the  box,  plainly  indicating 
that  he  knew  the  nature  of  its  contents. 

"  Well,  how  much  ?  "  inquired  the  Quaker. 

"  Why,  let  me  see,"  said  the  sailor ;  "  to  get  him 
off,  and  then  lose  him  overboard  —  " 

"Yes,  yes,"  ejaculated  Munson,  rubbing  his 
hands  with  delight. 


96 


PAUL    REDDING. 


"To  get  him  off — that's  worth  five  hundred; 
and  to  lose  him  overboard  —  not  less  than  five  hun 
dred  more ;  so  we  '11  say  one  thousand  dollars." 

"Impossible!"  answered  the  Quaker,  quite 
crest-fallen. 

"  Very  well !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  with  indif 
ference,  "  it  'd  be  a  cheap  bargain  at  that ;  but  you 
know  best,  do  as  you  please ;  it 's  nothing  to  me, 
you  know." 

"That's  a  great  sum,"  said  Munson,  contem 
plating  the  old  chest. 

"  Maybe  the  boy  may  call  on  you  for  a  greater 
sum,  one  o'  these  days,  unless  you  take  care  of 
him,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Ay,  ay,  he  must  be  taken  care  of! "  ejaculated 
the  Quaker.  "  But  then  if  I  induce  the  boy  to  go 
with  the  silly  notion  of  visiting  Italy,  as  I  have 
heard  him  say  he  would  like  to  do  when  he  became 
able,  I  shall  have  to  put  a  good  round  sum  in  his 
pocket ;  and  I  could  n't  afford  so  much." 

"  Pshaw !  "  exclaimed  the  sailor  ;  "  do  you  think 
I  'd  let  him  go  to  Davy  Jones  with  five  hundred 
dollars  in  his  wallet  ?  no,  no ;  give  him  that  amount, 
and  give  me  the  balance,  and  call  it  a  bargain. 
Do  ye  see,  I  don't  want  to  cheat  you,  or  I'd  let 
you  buy  him  off  the  best  way  you  could  and  make 
so  much  the  more  out  o'  the  speculation ;  but  I  'm 
honest,  and  would  n't  do  it  with  an  old  comrade  ! " 
As  he  spoke  he  drew  himself  up  as  if  perfectly 
conscious  of  his  superiority,  and  he  must  have 


PAUL     REDDING.  97 

looked,  with  that  cut-throat  face  of  his,  the  very 
ideal  of  honesty ;  none  could  have  doubted  him ; 
even  Nathaniel  Munson  himself  must  have  suffered 
in  comparison. 

"If  I  succeed  in  this  plan,"  said  Munson,  "I 
have,  then,  but  one  more  to  take  care  of." 

"  Yes,  you  have  one  more,"  answered  the  other, 
tapping  the  box  rather  lightly,  this  time. 

"  He  will  be  your  second  victim,"  continued  the 
Quaker. 

"  You  might  have  said  the  fiftieth,"  replied  the 
sailor,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Well,  well,  fiftieth,  if  you  please  ;  but  you  will 
help  him  out  of  the  way  for  the  sake  of  an  old 
grudge,  eh  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so." 

"You  hate  him?" 

"I  do ;  he  is  n't  a  friend  of  mine,  as  you  are, 
you  know,  Nat,  eh?  " 

"And  you  would  —  " 

"  Yes,  murder  him ! "  said  the  man  with  the  iron 
hook,  finishing  the  sentence ;  "for  a  small  con 
sideration." 

"A  very  small  one,"  continued  Munson,  looking 
wistfully  in  his  companion's  face. 

"Yes,  I  said  so,"  was  the  reply.  "And  I  sup 
pose  you  will  rest  contented,  having  only  the  blood 
of  three  on  your  conscience." 

"No,  no!"  cried  the  Quaker,  looking  wildly  at 
his  companion  ;  "  I  did  n't  do  it !  " 


98  PAUL     REDDING. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders  significantly, 
and  gazed  with  a  malicious  smile  into  Munson's 
face.  And  he  added,  "  You  are  sure  that  you  can 
manage  the  girl  ?  " 

"Ay,  ay,  never  fear;  my  son  will  help  me  do 
that;  and  for  that  old  idiot,  the  woman,  she  doesn't 
know  enough  to  interfere." 

"  Yes,  comrade,  you  're  right ;  that  son  o'  yours 
'11  help  you  to  do  any  thing  that  smacks  of  villainy, 
depend  on 't ;  he  's  been  my  mate  long  enough  for 
that." 

Munson  peered  up  in  the  other's  face  with  a  look 
of  deep  satisfaction  and  pride;  and  observed,  "If 
we  succeed,  the  property  —  I  mean  the  very  little 
that  I  have  been  looking  to —  will  be  secured  to  us, 
and  no  one  can  ever  come  up  to  dispute  it." 

"  Unless  they  be  bloody  ghosts ! "  answered  the 
sailor. 

"Don't,  don't  talk  of  such  ugly  things!"  cried 
the  Quaker,  with  a  shudder. 

"As  you  please,  comrade,"  was  the  reply. 
"Now  that  we  understand  each  other,  good  night. 
But  look  out  for  ghosts,  he,  he  !  look  out  for  thieves, 
ho,  ho !  lock  it  up  tight,  and  cover  your  head  close 
under  the  blankets,  to-night,  for  there  be  thieves 
and  ghosts  about !  he,  he,  ho,  ho  !  " 

"  Did  n't  you  hear  a  footstep  on  the  stairs  ?  "  said 
Munson,  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Thieves  and  ghosts  !  ho,  ho  ! "  was  the  reply. 

The  Quaker  followed  his  companion  down  stairs, 


PAUL     REDDING.  99 

who  went  tapping  his  iron  hook  on  the  balusters  all 
the  way  to  the  bottom,  disregarding  the  nudging 
and  coaxing  of  the  other.  And  when  Munson 
opened  the  door  for  him  to  depart,  he  observed  a 
cloaked  female,  pass  quickly  around  the  corner  of 
the  street.  That  night,  poor  Mary  arrived  unex 
pectedly  at  the  apartment  of  Fiery  Fitful. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

**  To  thee,  bright  land,  whose  sunny  skies 

No  wintry  clouds  e'er  vail, 
Away,  away,  my  spirit  flies 

Before  the  spreading  sail. 
I  see  thy  storied  hills  e'en  now 

With  purple  splendors  teem ; 
Thy  soft  airs  fan  ray  spirit's  brow,  — 

Land  of  the  poet's  dream !  " 

MARY  MATHER. 

THE  boy,  that  Munson  was  thus  laboring  to  get 
rid  of,  as  we  have  seen  in  the  last  chapter,  was  no 
other  than  Paul  Redding,  as  may  have  already 
been  surmised.  And  perhaps  no  scheme  however 
deeply  laid,  could  have  promised  better  success 
than  the  one  which  the  Quaker  had  hit  upon.  A 
youth,  romantic  in  all  of  his  feelings,  buoyant  with 
hopes  which  misfortune  had  failed  to  quell,  alive  to 
every  delicate  sensibility,  and  ardent  in  all  of  his 
passions,  was  an  easy  instrument  for  the  wily 
hypocrite  to  play  upon.  Munson  knew  this  ;  he 
knew  the  inexperience  of  his  victim,  in  regard  to 


100  PAUL     REDDING. 

the  cunning  world,  and  had  heard  some  of  his  ex 
travagant  notions  of  the  enchantments  of  an  artist's 
life  ;  he  knew  that  the  aspirant  to  art  ever  looked 
with  wistful  eyes  to  Europe,  and  to  Italy  in  partic 
ular,  as  the  artist's  paradise.  With  this  ground  to 
work  upon,  how  easy  to  spread  out  the  net  that 
would  entangle  the  footsteps  of  the  youth  ?  And 
Paul,  flattered  with  a  thousand  dazzling  dreams, 
that  only  youth  is  heir  to,  how  ready  was  he  to 
walk  into  the  well-planned  snare  !  He  saw  in 
imagination  all  the  splendors  of  Rome  and  Florence 
rise  before  him  !  The  works  of  Raphael,  Titian, 
and  all  the  host  of  Italian  masters  were  spread  in 
long  splendid  galleries  before  his  eyes,  and  he 
walked  the  storied  streets  of  the  "  seven  hill'd  city," 
lost  in  admiration  of  her  ruined  temples  ;  or  wrap 
ped  in  the  golden  sunlight  of  his  fancy,  dreamed  on 
the  banks  of  Arno.  How  enthusiastically  did  he 
applaud  the  kindness  of  Nathaniel  Munson,  and 
how  deeply  in  his  heart  did  he  thank  little  Edith, 
for  he  knew  that  her  sweet  voice  must  have  had  a 
prominent  part  in  persuading  her  father  to  this  act 
of  generosity.  Generosity  indeed  !  ah,  poor  youth, 
could  he  have  known  the  pangs  of  untold  grief  that 
were  rending  the  bosoms  of  those  who  were  bound 
to  him  by  the  nearest  ties  of  nature,  how  would  he 
have  rather  cursed  than  blest  that  shrivelled  fiend, 
the  Quaker.  Could  he  have  seen  poor  little  Edith, 
sitting  apart  from  all  and  weeping,  those  tears 
might  have  dissolved  the  chain  that  was  drawing 


PAUL     REDDING.  101 

him  on  to  his  dark  destiny !  Could  he  have  seen 
poor  Mary,  struggling  with  ejaculations  of  broken 
sentences,  and  failing  to  disentangle  her  words  and 
thoughts  from  the  web  of  her  brain,  gaze  tearfully, 
pityfully,  and  imploringly  into  the  face  of  Fitful,  as 
if  to  tell  him  with  her  eyes  what  her  brain  could 
not  shape  into  language  ;  could  he  have  seen  Fitful 
bending  affectionately,  like  a  parent  over  a  little 
child,  catching  at  her  words,  and  combining  them 
with  her  tears,  her  actions  and  her  countenance, 
and  when  he  had  gathered  the  dreadful  meaning 
break  into  his  most  fearful  state  of  madness,  and 
rush  wildly  he  knew  not  whither  !  Then  could  he 
have  seen  that  poor  woman,  sitting  with  her  hands 
clasped  on  her  knees,  and  her  pale,  sorrowful  face, 
turned  to  heaven,  motionless  as  a  statue  !  his  fan 
tastic  dream  had  vanished  like  frost-work  in  the 
sun,  and  he  would  have  questioned  the  motives  of  a 
stranger's  kindness  more  closely. 

But  what  is  to  save  him  now  ?  Fitful  is  gone  ! 
The  poor  woman  sits  secluded  in  her  little  chamber, 
a  more  melancholy-looking  thing  than  ever.  Little 
Edith,  with  a  swelling,  but  hopeful,  unsuspecting 
heart,  has  taken  leave  of  Paul,  and  seen  him  for 
the  last  time,  as  she  thinks,  for  years.  Mr.  Chris 
topher  Scrapp,  after  occupying  the  space  of  an 
hour,  in  giving  very  sage  advice  about  the  manner 
of  proceeding  in  a  country,  of  which  he  knew  little 
else  than  the  name,  and  hinting  darkly  about  certain 
complimentary  stanzas,  written  by  the  renowned 


102  PAUL     REDDING. 

Ichabod  Inkleton,  on  the  occasion  of  the  departure 
of  a  young  friend  to  Europe,  bade  adieu  to  his 
pupil. 

Munson,  with  a  sneaking  leer  on  his  countenance, 
and  his  chin  buried  very  deep  in  his  neck-cloth, 
walked  arm  in  arm  with  Paul  to  the  vessel,  wishing 
him  all  the  way  the  greatest  pleasure  imaginable 
in  his  voyage  ;  and  to  Paul's  heart-felt  expressions 
of  gratitude,  the  Quaker  humbly  requested  that  he 
would  not  "  mention  it."  The  captain,  who  was 
the  old  man  with  the  iron  hook  introduced  in  the 
last  chapter,  for  some  reason  or  other  was  not 
about  the  vessel,  and  had  left  word  that  he  would 
not  be  there,  until  they  should  be  ready  to  sail, 
which  would  be  on  the  following  morning.  Of 
course  Paul  thought  nothing  of  this,  for  the  captain's 
absence  could  be  of  no  possible  consequence  to 
him.  He  little  guessed  that  the  man  with  the  iron 
hook  was  fearful  of  awakening  in  the  mind  of  the 
youth  some  recollections  of  his  childhood,  and 
possibly  of  being  recognised  as  that  not  very  amia 
ble  character,  "  Fin."  He  surmised  wisely  for 
himself,  since  Paul  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  man  whom  he  saw  at  the  restaurateur,  on  the 
evening  of  his  first  arrival  in  the  city,  was  one  and 
the  same  with  that  individual  of  disagreeable  mem 
ory.  But  the  first  mate,  Munson's  hopeful  son, 
was  there  to  play  the  part  of  captain ;  he,  however, 
was  not  over-officious  in  doing  the  honors.  As 
Paul  scanned  his  coarse  form  from  head  to  foot,  he 


PAUL     REDDING.  103 

involuntarily  exclaimed  to  himself,  "And  can  this 
fellow,  then,  really  be  the  own  brother  of  little 
Edith  !  he  has  not  even  called  to  see  her,  or  pay  her 
any  of  the  attentions  that  a  brother  should  !  How 
ever,  it  is  enough  that  he  is  her  brother,  and  the 
son  of  my  generous  friend,  to  entitle  him  to  my 
respect." 

This  soliloquy  was  soon  cut  short  by  certain 
startling  altercations  held  between  Nathaniel  Mun- 
son,  Sen.,  and  Nathaniel  Munson,  Jr.,  in  which  the 
latter  seemed  to  have  the  best  of  it,  as  he  made  no 
hesitation  to  tell  the  old  gentleman  that  he  was  a 
mean,  stingy  lubber,  all  of  which  made  Nathaniel 
Munson,  Sen.,  survey  his  progeny  with  an  air  of 
deep  satisfaction  and  pride,  as  though  he  would 
challenge  the  world  of  fathers  to  produce  such 
another  promising  son.  Munson,  Jr.,  paid  no  atten 
tion  whatever  to  Paul ;  but  after  telling  his  affec 
tionate  parent  that  he  might  emigrate  to  regions 
that  would  not  sound  polite  in  delicate  ears  to 
name,  and  there  be  in  the  same  unpleasant  condi 
tion  of  those  who  had  gone  before  him,  turned 
suddenly  into  the  cabin.  In  the  event  of  which, 
Munson,  Sen.,  took  a  most  heart-rending  leave  of 
Paul,  and  retraced  his  steps  to  the  city,  whilst  the 
young  man  walked  the  deck,  contemplating  the 
scenes  in  his  own  brain  much  more  than  those 
around  him.  O,  how  bright  the  world  appeared 
before  him  !  not  a  shadow  swept  across  his  mind  to 
mar  his  fair  hopes!  With  five  hundred  dollars 


104  PAUL     REDDING. 

in  his  pocket,  and  the  promise  of  a  speedy  remit 
tance,  what  had  he  now  to  fear  ?  All  the  world 
was  wrapped  in  a  golden  halo,  and  the  ocean  over 
which  he  had  to  cross,  seemed  but  a  path  of 
pleasure.  He  walked  the  deck  slowly  but  proudly ; 
and  you,  who  have  achieved  suddenly  what  for  long 
years  of  days  and  nights  you  have  dreamed  of, 
hoping  at  one  time,  and  at  another  deeming  the 
realization  almost  an  impossibility,  or  at  least  far, 
far  before  you,  may  appreciate  the  feelings  of  the 
youth,  how  his  heart  swelled,  and  his  brain  throb 
bed  with  pleasure  !  The  evening  was  coming  on, 
and  Paul  was  reminded  that  that  was  the  last  twi 
light  which  would  gather  around  him  in  his  own 
native  land  for  months,  if  not  for  years,  to  come. 
He  stood  gazing  at  the  long  row  of  houses,  while 
the  tide  of  darkness  tilled  up  the  little  alley-ways 
and  recesses  of  whatever  description,  when  he 
observed,  at  a  neighboring  corner,  a  mysterious 
hand  beckoning  ever  and  anon,  and  then  the  head 
of  a  female  was  visible  for  a  moment,  but  it  dodged 
quickly  back  again.  While  the  arm  was  still  ex 
tended  and  beckoning,  the  head  appeared  three  or 
four  times,  and  the  hand  moved  unceasingly  for 
several  minutes,  before  Paul  could  make  up  his 
mind  to  answer  the  summons ;  but  at  last  he  stepped 
ashore,  and  walked  toward  the  woman,  who,  when 
she  saw  him  coming,  retreated  slowly,  but  still 
beckoning  him  on,  until  she  glided  into  a  very  small, 
dark  passage,  and  discovered  to  the  youth,  by  her 


PAUL     REDDING.  105 

manner  and  tones  of  voice,  that  strange  creature, 
"  poor  Mary."  Paul  knew  not  what  to  make  of 
this  singular  interview ;  her  words  were  incoherent, 
and  she  seemed  even  excited,  a  state  in  which  he 
had  never  seen  her  before.  He  could  understand, 
however,  that  she  said  something  of  Fitful,  and 
gathered  from  her,  words  something  like  these  : 
"  Fitful  —  home  —  go  —  see  —  must  —  must,  now, 
to-night ! "  The  woman  drew  her  cloak  closely 
around  her,  and  passed  swiftly  on,  and  Paul,  im 
pelled  by  his  sympathies,  not  only  for  her,  but  for 
the  strange  man,  whose  name  she  uttered,  made 
no  hesitation  to  follow.  Having  arrived  at  Fitful's 
apartment,  they  found  the  poor  man  in  the  greatest 
state  of  agony.  He  was  leaning  against  the  wall 
beating  the  air  with  his  hands ;  but  when  he  saw 
the  youth,  he  embraced  him,  and  sobbed  like  a 
child,  and  then  grew  gradually  calm  again,  but  he 
was  not  yet  what  Paul  had  seen  him  in  his  better 
moments.  Mary  gazed  on  the  two  with  almost  an 
expression  of  gladness,  if,  indeed,  her  sorrowful  face 
could  at  any  time  assume  a  different  look  from  its 
habitual  one.  It  was  a  melancholy  sight  to  see 
those  two  strange  creatures  striving  to  be  glad.  It 
was  a  sadder  sight  as  they  tried  to  explain  to  the 
youth  a  part  of  a  dreadful  secret.  The  poor 
woman  endeavored  to  communicate  her  thoughts 
by  the  wild  motions  of  her  hands,  and  Fitful  suc 
ceeded  but  little  better  with  the  free  use  of  lan 
guage.  But,  at  last,  he  gave  Paul  to  understand, 
7 


106  PAUL     REDDING. 

that  he  must  not  return  to  the  vessel,  but  stay  where 
he  was  for  that  night,  at  least.  The  youth,  who 
could  see  no  possible  reason  for  such  a  movement, 
and  considered  what  Fitful  had  told  him  about  evil 
designs  and  the  like,  but  the  wild  fancies  of  a 
fevered  brain,  remonstrated  somewhat  against  this 
arrangement,  until  the  other,  to  satisfy  him  at  once, 
asked  him,  if  he  did  not  remember  a  dark,  ugly 
man,  the  enemy  of  his  father. 

Paul  replied,  with  no  little  astonishment,  that  he 
did  remember  such  a  man. 

"And  that  man's  name,"  continued  Fitful,  "  was 
Fin!" 

"  In  Heaven's  name,  how  knew  you  that  ?  "  cried 
Paul. 

"  No  matter,"  said  Fitful,  "  no  matter  for  the 
present ;  but  be  satisfied,  and  stay  where  you  are, 
when  I  tell  you  that  that  dark  man,  Fin,  is  the 
captain  of  that  vessel !  Thank  this  poor  woman, 
who  has  providentially  saved  you  from  the  jaws  of 
a  shark  !  Yes,  literally  a  shark  !  " 

"  If  such  is  the  fact,  I  do  indeed  thank  her  ! " 
cried  Paul,  still  lost  in  amazement. 

"  Well,  well,  sit  down,"  said  Fitful, "  sit  down, 
and  I  '11  explain  as  much  as  I  can,  conveniently,  for 
•  the  present ;  at  least,  enough  to  satisfy  you.  There 
fore,  sit  down,  and  be  calm." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"  The  night  goes  on. 
Why  in  the  shadow  of  the  mast, 

Stands  that  dark,  thoughtful  man  alone  ? 
Thy  pledge,  man  ;  keep  it  fast  !  "  R,  H. 

Beneath  the  silent  arch  of  midingiit  falls 
The  muffled  poun^.  of  lee?,  that  print  the  dust 
Along  the  winding  highway. 

IT  was  late  at  night,  before  Nathaniel  Munson 
was  informed  of  the  disappearance  of  the  young- 
man.  He  was  evidently  uneasy.  Had  the  youth 
have  disappeared  satisfactorily — that  is  to  say, 
forever,  all  would  have  been  well ;  but  as  it  was, 
he  had  a  prophetic  feeling,  which  told  him  that 
something  was  going  on,  not  altogether  according 
to  his  wishes.  Therefore,  he  drew  his  weather- 
beaten,  broad-brimmed  hat  very  low  over  his  fore 
head,  plunged  into  the  street,  and  following  his  first 
impulse,  hurried  along  to  the  residence  of  Fitful. 
Paul  had  already  learnt  enough  of  the  villainy  of 
the  Quaker,  to  turn  the  feelings  of  gratitude  and 
respect,  that  he  had  hitherto  felt  for  Munson,  into 
deep  hatred,  if  not  indeed  into  a  spirit  of  revenge  ; 
but  there  was  still  a  dark  mystery  involving  ail. 
He  had  no  reason  to  doubt  the  assertions  of  Fitful, 
or  the  woman ;  nor  yet  could  he  understand  why 
he  should  be  the  object  of  such  infernal  plans,  as 
the  one  of  which  Munson  was  accused.  But  he 
had  promised  Fitful  to  follow  his  injunctions  for  the 


108  PAUL    REDDING. 

present,  in  lieu  of  which,  Fitful  had  agreed  to  dis 
close  to  the  youth,  as  soon  as  practicable,  which, 
perhaps  would  be  in  a  few  days,  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  case,  and  satisfactory  evidences  to  prove 
them.  They  had  just  arrived  at  this  state  of  affairs, 
when  Munson,  unceremoniously  thrust  himself  into 
the  apartment.  Paul  felt,  for  a  moment,  an  uneasy 
twitching  in  his  fingers  to  grasp  the  Quaker  by  the 
white  cravat,  and  give  it  a  few  smart  twists,  much 
to  the  discomfort  of  that  shrivelled,  lying  throat ; 
but  he  suppressed  his  feelings,  and  only  gazed  on 
the  old  man  with  a  look  of  stern  defiance  and  con 
tempt,  which  so  disconcerted  the  Quaker  that  Paul 
felt  doubly  assured  that  what  he  had  heard  was 
true.  The  poor  woman  recoiled  with  a  shudder 
into  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room ;  but  Fitful, 
with  clenched  fists  and  flashing  eyes,  confronted 
-the  Quaker,  and  bade  him,  if  he  valued  his  head, 
to  depart.  Nathaniel  Munson  endeavored  to  look 
bland  ;  he  smiled  a  grim  smile,  and  observed  to  the 
young  man,  paying  no  attention  to  the  threat,  that 
he  had  better  take  leave  of  those  good  people,  and 
without  further  delay,  go  on  board  the  vessel, 'which 
was  about  to  be  hauled  out  into  the  stream,  ready  to 
sail  early  in  the  morning. 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing  !  "  cried  Paul. 

"  Thee  won't  ?  "  ejaculated  the  Quaker,  with 
astonishment. 

"  No,  he  won't ! "  thundered  Fitful,  grasping 
Munson  by  the  collar. 


PAUL     REDDING.  109 

"He  don't  mean  — " 

"  Yes,  he  does  mean ! "  cried  the  other,  "  he 
does  mean  to  mar  your  infernal  plot ! "  and  with 
that,  Fitful  dragged  the  Quaker,  or  rather  lifted 
him  bodily  to  the  door. 

"  But  he  's  got  my  money  !  "  urged  the  little  man. 

"And  will  keep  it!  "  was  the  answer. 

•'  No,  no,  not  keep  my  money  !  "  screamed  the 
Quaker. 

"  I  say  he  will  keep  it,  and  take  that,  as  my  ac 
knowledgment  for  the  sum  !  "  replied  Fitful,  as  he 
thrust  Munson  down  stairs,  with  an  accompanying 
kick. 

"But  I  will  have  rny  money  !  "  cried  he,  from 
the  bottom  of  the  stairs.  "  Help  !  murder  !  help  ! 
thieves  !  "  Fitful  listened  till  the  cry  of  "  help  ! 
murder!  thieves !"  &c.,  died  away  in  the  distance, 
and  then  turning  to  Paul,  exclaimed,  "  There  is  no 
time  to  lose  ;  I  know  this  old  hell-hound  too  well 
to  trust  him  ;  therefore,  prepare  to  leave  ;  and  Mary, 
for  a  little  while  longer,  betake  yourself  to  this  old 
scoundrel's  house,  only  for  a  few  days  more,  for 
the  girl's  sake  !  "  and  saying  this,  he  led  her  to  the 
door.  Now  hurriedly  he  grasped  those  two  old 
rusty  pistols  from  above  the  mantel-piece,  and 
thrust  them  into  the  breast  of  his  coat ;  but  as  he 
was  gathering  some  papers  frorA  a  private  drawer, 
and  stuffing  them  into  his  pockets,  he  heard  the 
sound  of  clumsy  footsteps  on  the  stairs ;  and  with 
out  farther  delay  threw  open  a  window,  and  bidding 


110  PAUL     REDDING. 

Paul  to  follow,  leapt  out  on  to  a  shed,  in  the  rear 
of  the  house  and  disappeared,  just  as  a  couple  of 
coarsely  cloaked  figures,  followed  by  Munson,  rushed 
into  the  apartment.  But  it  was  no  use  ;  Fitful  and 
Paul  were  nowhere  to  be  found  ;  and  the  Quaker, 
bursting  with  rage  and  disappointment,  bade  his 
myrmidons  seize  poor  Mary,  who  had  loitered  at 
the  door,  and  now  stood  looking  on  in  stupid  amaze 
ment.  They  laid  their  coarse  hands  upon  the 
woman  and  dragged  her  away.  How  meekly  and 
willingly  did  she  go !  Yes,  poor  thing,  it  mattered 
little  to  her,  whether  they  led  her  to  a  palace,  or  a 
prison  !  But  where  was  little  Edith,  all  this  time  ? 
She  was  pacing  a  solitary  apartment  in  the  house 
of  Nathaniel  Munson,  altogether  unconscious  of 
what  had  taken  place.  She  little  dreamed  that 
Paul  was  not  ensconced  on  board  the  ship  ready  to 
depart ;  no,  she  almost  sighed  to  think  that  such 
was  the  case,  and  then  reproached  herself  for 
having  a  wish  that  would  deprive  him  of  so  much 
pleasure.  She  wondered  what  could  detain  poor 
Mary  so  long,  it  was  past  eleven  o'clock,  and  she 
was  not  accustomed  to  keep  such  late  hours !  Vex 
not  thy  sweet  brain,  dear  Edith,  get  thee  to  thy 
quiet  pillow,  while  yet  it  invites  thee  ;  let  there  be 
one  to-night  who  shall  sleep  untroubled  !  Let  us 
look  for  a  moment  to  Fin  ;  he  is  walking  the  deck 
of  his  vessel,  uttering  strange  words,  and  curses 
mingled  with  fits  of  jeering  laughter.  But  where 
fore  should  he  curse  ?  he  is  thinking  that  a  beard- 


PAUL     REDDING.  Ill 

less  victim  hath  slipped  from  his  hands,  carrying  in 
his  possession  five  hundred  dollars !  And  the  iron- 
armed  captain  laughs,  for  he  carries  as  great  a 
sum  of  the  Quaker's  money  in  his  own  pocket, 
which  he  has  not  had  the  trouble  of  earning,  and 
which  the  Quaker  may  not  again  easily  reclaim. 
Thus  the  evil  man  may  laugh  and  curse  alternately ! 
Fitful  and  the  youth  threaded  the  quiet  streets  of 
the  Quaker  city,  and  passed  unmolestedly  over  the 
long  bridge  that  crosses  the  Schuylkill.  Now, 
having  gained  the  open  country,  they  could  walk 
more  leisurely,  and  mature  their  plans.  Fitful's 
pace  was  quick  and  nervous,  so  much  so,  that  Paul 
with  difficulty,  at  times,  maintained  his  place  at  the 
side  of  his  companion.  The  night  was  clear  and 
still ;  it  was  just  such  an  hour  as  suited  well  the 
romantic  feelings  of  the  youth ;  but,  under  the 
present  circumstances,  his  brain  whirling  with  the 
excitement  of  surprises  not  yet  explained,  he  saw 
not,  felt  not,  and  cared  not  for  surrounding  objects, 
so  long  as"  he  felt  assured  of  his  companion's  and 
his  own  safety.  The  stars  above  him  seemed 
dizzy,  and  the  shadowy  hills  rolled  like  the  billows 
of  ocean  away,  and  others  rose  to  view  as  they 
passed  hurriedly  over  the  uneven  road.  The  mile 
stones,  grim  and  ghostlike,  one  after  one  greeted 
them  through  the  long,  silent  night,  and  the  pedes 
trians,  like  two  shadows  moulded  from  the  sur 
rounding  darkness,  passed  unnoticed  over  the  dusty 
white  turnpike.  Daylight  found  them  far  on  their 


112  PAUL     REDDING. 

way ;  and,  at  ten  o'clock,  the  long  line  of  white 
houses  that  constitute  the  pleasant  village  men 
tioned  in  the  early  part  of  our  story,  greeted  their 
sight,  to  the  no  little  gratification  of  both  parties. 
They  were  fatigued,  bodily,  with  their  march,  and 
mentally,  by  anxiety  and  the  late  occurrences. 
Therefore  they  gladly  hailed  the  old  swinging  sign 
board  of  the  "  Half-way  House."  Numerous 
wagons  of  every  description  filled  up  the  stable 
yard,  and  occupied  the  space  before  the  inn  door. 
A  crowd  of  people  were  moving  back  and  forth 
from  the  bar-room  to  the  porch,  some  laughing, 
some  swearing,  others  boasting  and  bargaining, 
and  not  a  few  calling  out  in  the  most  uproarious 
manner  for  liquor.  Dutch,  Irish,  and  English,  and 
bad  enough  English  at  that,  made  a  most  unintelli 
gible  and  unharmonious  compound  of  human  voices. 
Paul  and  his  companion  elbowed  their  way  into  the 
bar-room,  without  much  difficulty,  since  even  the 
bravest,  (which  means,  when  speaking  of  such 
people,  the  strongest,  as  a  matter  of  course,)  even 
the  stoutest  fell  instinctively  back  to  make  a  pas 
sage  for  that  strange  man  whom  they  all  had  seen 
or  heard  of  before,  and  who,  they  verily  believed, 
was  the  devil  himself,  or  one  nearly  connected  with 
his  sooty  majesty. 

Mr.  Samuel  Spatter,  encircled  by  a  crowd  at 
one  end  of  the  porch,  related  how  he  had  seen  that 
same  strange  individual  under  very  suspicious  cir 
cumstances.  How  he  (the  mysterious  man)  had 


PAUL     REDDING.  113 

walked  one  night,  during  a  thunder  storm,  into  that 
same  bar-room,  filling  the  place  with  a  strong  smell 
of  sulphur;  and  how  he  (Mr.  Spatter)  saw  some 
thing  very  much  resembling  a  horn  sticking  through 
a  hole  in  the  old  man's  beaver ;  and  he  was  not 
quite  certain,  but  thought  that  he  saw  the  devil's 
tail  switching  about  from  beneath  the  skirts  of  the 
stranger's  long  overcoat.  This  dreadful  intelli 
gence  sent  a  thrill  of  awe  through  the  gaping 
crowd,  and  served  not  a  little  to  make  the  distance 
that  they  maintained  between  themselves  and 
Fitful,  very  respectful.  The  more  superstitious 
members  of  the  company  were  suddenly-  reminded 
of  all  the  mysterious  things  they  had  seen  and 
heard  of  during  their  life,  and,  on  comparing  notes, 
concluded  that  the  stranger  was  the  agent  of  them 
all.  One  big,  bony,  half  Dutchman,  related  how 
he  was  sitting  at  his  door  one  evening  just  at  twi 
light,  and  how  all  at  once  he  saw  a  big  black  ball 
roll  round  and  round  in  the  yard,  and  how  he  ran 
and  got  his  gun  and  shot  at  it,  but  at  that  very  in 
stant  it  vanished  in  a  cloud  of  dust ;  and  how  just 
then  he  saw  this  same  dark  man  dash  wildly  down 
through  the  orchard  and  disappear  behind  a  big 
tree ;  and  when  he  (the  Dutchman)  ran  up  to  the 
place  he  only  found  a  dead  'possum  ;  but  conclud 
ing  that  it  was  a  bait  left  there  by  the  devil,  he 
did  n't  dare  to  touch  it,  but  went  to  the  same  place, 
the  next  morning,  and  it  was  gone !  The  latter 
circumstance  placed  his  suspicions  beyond  a  doubt ! 


114  PAUL     REDDING. 

All  this  made  a  confusion  that  Paul  could  not 
well  understand;  nor  did  the  figure  of  the  little 
host,  seated  upon  the  top  of  an  old  rusty  beer- 
barrel,  "  beating  time  to  nothing"  with  his  heels 
against  the  sides  of  the  cask,  serve  to  explain  the 
mystery.  When  he  beheld  the  young  man  ap 
proaching,  he  shook  his  head  in  a  most  melancholy 
manner,  as  much  as  to  say  it  could  n't  be  helped, 
then  cast  his  eyes  again  to  the  floor,  and  heaved  a 
long  sigh  that  ended  with,  "  Ah,  mine  Got !  mine 
Got ! " 

"What's  the  matter,  my  good  friend?"  said 
Paul,  laying  his  hand  on  the  Dutchman's  shoulder. 

"  Go  vay,  go  vay  !  "  sighed  the  landlord  ;  "  der 
aint  no  Half-way  House  no  more  —  der  aint  no 
Gotlieb  Speckuncrout  no  more,  der  aint !  No,  no ! 
all  going,  going,  gone !  to  der  tivel !  " 

"  But  tell  me,"  cried  the  youth,  "  what  does  all 
this  mean  ?  " 

"Veil,  veil,  suppose  it  doesn't  mean  notting ! 
All  I  got  to  say  is,  der  Half-way  House  is  going  to 

der  tivel  and  pe "  he  swallowed  the  last  word, 

but  expressed  his  meaning  by  dealing  a  very  severe- 
kick  oh  the  side  of  the  cask. 

Mr.  Spatter,  where  he  found  that  any  information 
was  wanted,  kindly  tendered  his  services,  and  soon 
explained  to  Paul  the  whole  mystery.  How  that 
Captain  Cutlass,  the  warlike  gentleman,  had  come 
very  near  fighting  a  duel  with  the  Hon.  Timothy 
Little  worth,  and  how  that  he  was  only  appeased  in 


PAUL     REDDING.  115 

his  wrath  by  the  loan  of  two  hundred  dollars  from 
the  honorable  gentleman,  and  how  that  Mynheer 
Speckuncrout,  like  a  darned  fool,  as  he  was,  had, 
at  Mr.  Littleworth's  suggestion,  gone  security  for 
the  amount.  That  the  warlike  gentleman  turned 
out  to  be  a  great  rascal,  just  as  he  (Mr.  Spatter) 
had  said  he  would,  although  he  did  n't  remember 
under  what  circumstances  he  made  the  remark ; 
but  that  was  no  matter ;  he  knew  that  he  had  said 
it  somewhere  to  somebody,  and  his  prophecy  had 
come  true,  as  usual.  He  went  on  to  say  that  when 
some  handbills  appeared,  offering  a  reward  for  a 
certain  notorious  swindler,  the  captain  very  sud 
denly  disappeared,  and  emigrated  to  parts  un 
known.  Consequently,  Mr.  Littleworth,  knowing 
Mynheer  to  be  a  political  opponent,  pounced  down 
upon  him  for  the  money ;  which  the  landlord  was 
not  able  to  pay  just  at  the  time,  since  he  himself 
had  been  fleeced  of  all  of  his  ready  cash  by  the 
same  military  gentleman.  The  consequence  of 
which  was,  Mynheer  Speckuncrout  was  about  to  be 
sold  out  at  vendue  by  the  constable. 

At  the  conclusion  of  this  piece  of  intelligence, 
Fitful  and  Paul  held  some  conversation  apart,  in 
which  the  latter  seemed  to  make  some  proposals 
that  met  with  the  approbation  of  the  former ;  then 
stepping  up  to  the  landlord,  he  whispered  some 
thing  in  the  Dutchman's  ear  that  made  him  open 
his  eyes  and  mouth  very  wide  ;  and,  on  hearing  the 
same  thing  repeated,  he  jumped  down  from  the  top 


116  PAUL     REDDING. 

of  the  barrel,  and  snatching  his  little  red  cap  from 
off  his  little  bald  head,  threw  it  with  great  disre 
spect  at  the  form  of  the  Hon.  Timothy  Littleworth, 
(who  had  just  entered  the  bar-room  and  was  stand 
ing  in  Napoleon's  battle  attitude,)  and  then,  in  a 
delirium  of  pleasure,  threw  his  arms  around  Paul 
and  embraced  him ;  then  went  through  the  same 
operation  with  Mr.  Spatter,  and  his  joy  knew  no 
bounds  till  he  found  that  he  was  embracing  Fitful ! 
The  cause  of  this  strange  proceeding  was  only 
explained  when  Paul  drew  from  his  pocket  the 
money  that  the  Quaker  had  furnished  him,  and 
passed  the  necessary  sum,  two  hundred  dollars, 
into  the  hands  of  Gotlieb  Speckuncrout,  who,  with 
an  air  of  unbounded  triumph,  paid  the  amount  over 
to  the  astonished  prosecutor,  and  requested  that  the 
company  would  call  for  what  they  pleased  to 
drink!  That  was  a  great  day  at  the  Half-way 
House  !  When  the  landlord  found  that  Fitful  was 
Paul's  friend,  he  no  longer  held  him  in  dread,  but 
placed  him  in  estimation  next  to  the  youth.  Every 
delicacy  that  the  place  could  afford  was  thrust 
before  these  two  wayworn  travellers ;  and  the  best 
bed  in  the  house  was  at  their  disposal,  which, 
perhaps,  was  the  most  welcome  of  any  thing  that 
the  grateful  host  could  have  furnished. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  Amen  ! 

To  the  desolate  mourner's  prayer, 
In  the  palace  or  prison-cell ; 
Let  thine  answering  mercy  tell, 
Thou,  God  !  art  there  ! 

Amen  1  " 

DDGANNE. 

PAUL  had  enjoyed  for  several  hours  a  refreshing 
sleep,  and  he  awoke  in  the  afternoon  feeling  quite 
renewed  again.  Fitful,  strange  to  say,  had  not 
slept,  but  had  occupied  the  time  in  writing ;  and 
now,  just  as  the  youth  awoke,  he  was  adding  the 
superscription  to  a  long  letter  that  he  had  just 
finished.  "  Come,  Paul,"  said  he,  "  we  have  yet 
some  miles  to  walk;  it  is  time  that  we  were  on 
our  way." 

"  To  what  place  do  you  intend  going  to-night  ?  " 
inquired  the  youth. 

"  To  one  that  you  are  already  familiar  with," 
was  the  answer.  "  A  few  hours  hence,  boy,  and 
you  will  know  all  that  you  may  even  wish  to  know 
about  this  mystery ;  more,  perhaps,  than  you  ought 
to  know  for  your  own  happiness.  But  come,  the 
sun  is  yet  two  hours  high ;  ere  it  sets,  our  destina 
tion  may  be  gained." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  two  travellers  were  again 
on  their  way.  They  turned  their  course  up  the 
banks  of  the  Brandywine  river,  and  passing  under 
the  groves  of  old  chestnut  and  sycamore  trees, 


118  PAUL     REDDING. 

soon  lost  sight  of  the  village,  and  were  surrounded 
by  the  murmuring  of  the  water,  the  singing  of 
birds,  and  the  oblique  rays  of  golden  sunlight,  that 
slid  through  the  rustling  leaves  to  light  the  wood 
land  path.  Paul  became  not  a  little  concerned  to 
find  his  companion  relapsing  into  his  wild  state. 
When  a  squirrel  dropped  his  nut  to  the  ground,  and 
leapt  away  among  the  tall  branches,  Fitful  would 
start  aside  with  a  shudder  ;  and  when  a  dead  limb 
fell  beside  them,  crackling  on  the  ground,  he  grasp 
ed  the  arm  of  the  youth  and  darted  furiously  from 
the  woods.  But  in  a  short  time,  they  stood  on  the 
spot  where  Paul  first  encountered  the  strange  man ; 
and  the  sun  was  now  just  dropping  behind  the  dis 
tant  blue  hills. 

"There!"  cried  Fitful,  "you  hear   the   river, 

boiling  and  fretting,  but  cannot  see  it  from  here  — 

you  see  the  long  dark  line  of  trees  that  cover  its 

banks  — listen  how  it  moans!     Do  you  hear  it? 

Then  let  me  tell  you,  Paul,  there  are  streams  of 

guilt   in    the  world,  that,  however   they   may  lie 

concealed  beneath  familiar  things,  and  run  through 

hidden  ways,  still  have  a  voice  which-  cannot  be 

stifled!      See  yonder!    how  high   yon   fish-hawk 

sails ;  a  dim  speck,  it  would  almost  emulate  the 

stars !  but  let  me  tell  you,  Paul,  to-day  that  bird 

has   sunk   lower,  amid   the    turmoil  of  that  dark 

stream  that  flows  yonder,  than  thousands  of  the 

winged  tribe  that  soar  not  so  high!     Remember 

that*  Paul,   remember  that!"     Thus   saying,   he 


PAUL     REDDING.  119 

turned  to  the  old  apple-tree,  described  in  our  first 
chapter,  and  exclaimed,  "  Here,  Paul  Kedding,  on 
this  spot  will  I  deliver  to  you  that  which  is  your 
own;  and  let  the  dead  witness  that  no  man  is 
wronged!"  and  he  drew  from  the  breast  of  his 
coat  a  package  of  papers,  and  handed  them  to 
the  youth.  "Here,"  said  he,  taking  the  letter 
that  he  had  that  day  written,  from  his  pocket, 
"here,  Paul,  take  this;  when  I  am— -no  —  that  is, 
I  mean,  to-morrow,  send  that  to  the  place  where  it 
is  directed  to  —  not  before  — not  after;  but  to 
morrow.  As  to  that  package,  it  is  yours ;  read  it 
when  you  please,  sooner  or  later ;  all,  all  is  there  ! 
I  have  done  all  —  done  my  best.  God  forgive  me 
for  having  once  in  my  life,  done  my  worst  !  You 
will  forgive  me,"  continued  he,  grasping  the  youth 
by  the  hand,  "you  will  forgive  me,  will  you  not?" 

"Indeed,"  answered  Paul,  "I  know  not  of  any 
thing  you  have  done  that  requires  my  forgiveness." 

"  True,  my  dear  boy,  true  !  but  you  soon  will 
know,  you  soon  must  know,  therefore,  forgive  me  ; 
for  the  love  of — of  Heaven,  let  me  have  your 
forgiveness ! " 

"  Most  heartily  I  give  it !  "  cried  Paul,  "  let  it  be 
for  what  it  may ! "  and  tears  dimmed  the  eyes  of 
both.  "Come,"  said  Fitful,  "it  has  grown  quite 
dark,  follow  me  to  yon  old  stone  mansion.  There 
we  may  rest  to-night.  You  will  find  a  bed  in  an 
upper  chamber,  although  no  living  soul  occupies 
the  dwelling ;  but  that  is  no  matter ;  it  has  been 


120  PAUL  REDDING. 

my  place  of  retreat  for  years,  no  other  has  occu 
pied  it  for  many  a  day  ;  therefore  it  will  be  a  fitting 
place  for  us  to-night."  When  they  arrived  at  the 
house,  Fitful  took  from  his  pocket  a  big  rusty 
key,  and  turning  it  with  difficulty  in  the  lock, 
threw  the  heavy  door  back  on  its  grating  hinges. 
As  they  passed  into  a  large  old-fashioned  and 
empty  room,  their  footfalls  ran  echoing  over  the 
building,  as  if  they  were  messengers  sent  to  the 
remotest  apartments  to  tell  of  the  arrival  of  the  two 
guests.  Fitful  lighted  an  old,  brass  lamp,  that  stood 
on  the  mantle-piece,  and  led  the  youth  up  the  dusty, 
creaking  stairway.  "  There,"  said  he,  as  he  stood 
at  the  top  of  the  first  flight  of  stairs,  "there,  that 
will  be  my  room  to-night,  yours  is  one  story  high 
er;"  and  they  passed  up  into  a  small  chamber, 
furnished  with  a  bed  and  a  couple  of  old  chairs. 
There  hung  on  the  walls  two  portraits,  in  very  an 
tique-looking  frames.  Paul  was  struck  with  the 
pictures,  and  he  stood  before  them  for  some  time, 
contemplating  the  countenances,  which  were  those 
of  a  young  man  and  woman.  Those  quiet  eyes,  as 
they  looked  down  into  his,  seemed  to  read  his  very 
soul,  and  the  youth  recalled  in  his  mind,  uncon 
sciously,  scenes  long  since  gone  by.  He  turned  to 
inquire  of  his  companion  who  they  were  the  por 
traits  of,  and  for  the  first  time,  found  he  was  alone ! 
He  stood  for  awhile  lost  in  amazement,  but  his 
gaze  rested  again  on  those  quiet  familiar  faces,  un 
til  overwhelmed  with  a  flood  of  recollections,  he 


PAUL     REDDING.  121 

reeled  to  the  bed,  and  sunk  upon  its  edge,  whilst 
the  tears   streamed  from  his  burning  eyes.      Old 
scenes  swept  through  his  brain,  like  the  sunlight 
and  shadow  that  play  over  distant  fields ;  scenes 
wherein  moved  the  forms  of  his  father  and  mother, 
and  as  he  gazed  on  them  with  his  "  mind's  eye," 
they  seemed  to  be  the  originals  of  those  two  pic 
tures  !     Thus  he  laid  wrapped  in  a  dreamy  maze 
of  the  past,  he  knew  not  how  long ;  but  when  he 
looked    up,  the  broad   moon  was  looking  in  upon 
him  with  a  brilliancy  that  almost  drowned  the  faint 
glimmering   of  the    lamp,  and  as   its  white    rays 
gleamed  over  the  faces  of  the  paintings,  divesting 
them  of  all  color,  Paul  shrunk  back  with  a  shudder, 
for  he  thought  he  saw  "  Poor  Mary's"  ghost!     But 
he  soon    upbraided    himself  for   his  timidity,  and 
drawing   the    package    that  Fitful    had  given  him 
from  his  pocket,  laid  it  on  the  table  by  the  lamp, 
intending  to  seize  the  present  opportunity  to  solve 
the  mystery  that  had  thus  gathered  its  strange  web 
about  him.     But  feeling  some  misgivings  in  regard 
to  the  safety  of  his  companion,  he  passed  cautiously 
down   stairs,  and    opening   the    chamber  door   as 
softly  as    possible,   looked   in.     He    beheld   Fitful 
kneeling   in    the    flood    of    white    moonshine    that 
streamed    across   the    floor,    muttering   most    un 
couth  words,  while    he  scraped  on  the    hard  oak 
floor  with  the  blade  of  a  knife.     "  This  is  a  die  for 
the  conscience,"  he  murmured  ;  "  purple  is  a  royal 
color,  and  the  oak  is  monarch  of  the  woods !  who 
8 


122  PAUL     REDDING. 

may  divest  the  king  of  his  robes  ? "  Again  he 
scraped  on  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  but  his 
wild  thoughts  soon  burst  forth  in  utterance.  "  What! 
shall  I  write  a  book  that  I  cannot  un  write  ?  O, 
what  a  chronicle  is  here!  Did  the  world  under 
stand  the  alphabet  to  these  hieroglyphics,  what  a 
tale  would  here  be  unfolded  !  " 

Paul,  fearful  of  being  observed  by  the  wild  man, 
retreated  again  to  his  chamber,  but  sat  hour  after 
hour  listening  to  the  sound  of  the  scraping  knife ; 
for  while  he  could  hear  that,  he  felt,  in  a  degree, 
at  ease,  since  the  noise  told  him  that  Fitful  was  still 
safe  in  his  room.  The  moon  was  now  no  longer 
looking  in  at  the  window  ;  the  lamp  was  burning 
low ;  he  was  reminded  that  he  had  not  yet  exam 
ined  the  package ;  and  pricking  up  the  wick  of  the 
lamp  with  the  point  of  a  knife,  he  examined  the 
papers,  and  the  first  thing  that  attracted  his  par 
ticular  attention  was  a  letter  addressed  to  himself. 
He  opened  it  and  read  : 

"  MY  DEAR  BOY  : 

"You  have  been  a  wanderer  in  the  world;  so  have 
I.  Wherever  you  have  been,  there  have  I  been, 
also.  I  have  been  near  you  a  thousand  times 
when  you  little  guessed  it.  But  all  that  is  passed. 
The  time  has  arrived.  Enclosed  among  these 
papers  you  will  find  that  which  will  make  you 
independent  of  the  world.  The  property  is  mostly 


PAUL     REDDING.  123 

yours ;  but  you  are  not  alone  ;  there  are  those  who 
will  be  dependent  upon  you;  fail  not  to  do  your 
duty  by  them — love  them  as  you  should  love  those 
nearest  and  dearest  to  you.  This  letter  is  only  to 
prepare  you  for  the  perusal  of  others  of  deeper 
importance ;  you  will  find  them  all  at  your  com 
mand,  and  as  you  read  them,  0,  curse  me  not! 
but  weep  that  humanity  should  fall  so  far ;  then 
pray  that  God  may  cleanse  the  blood-stained  soul, 
and  forgive,  (yes,  Paul,  it  is  true ! )  your  dying 
father !  JOHN  REDDING." 

This  is  a  disclosure  that  the  reader,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  has  been  prepared  for;  and,  in  fact,  so 
had  Paul,  at  times,  but  not  at  that  moment,  when 
his  nerves  were  torn  with  excitement,  and  his  brain 
dizzy  with  fears  and  conjectures !  He  reeled  and 
staggered,  but  recovered  himself,  and  his  first  im 
pulse  was  to  rush  down  stairs  and  throw  himself 
into  the  arms  of  his  father.  The  stairs  were 
passed,  he  knew  not  how ;  he  burst  into  the 
chamber,  but  it  was  vacant !  Fitful  was  gone ! 
O,  how  wildly,  how  madly  did  Paul  traverse  every 
apartment  of  that  dark,  dismal  house,  calling  on 
the  name  of  his  father !  Now,  rushing  out  into  the 
chill  morning  air,  he  hurried  to  the  woods,  ran  up 
and  down  by  the  river  side  ;  nor  did  he  cease  his 
search  until  he  had  alarmed  the  neighbors,  and 


124  PAUL     REDDING. 

called  several  of  them  to  his  assistance.  The  red 
morn  was  already  in  the  east,  and  the  broad  day 
light  soon  came  up  to  the  aid  of  the  distracted  son. 
The  company,  after  a  vigilant  search,  met  on  the 
brow  of  the  hill  not  far  from  where  Paul  had  first 
seen  Fitful ;  disappointment  was  on  every  counte 
nance,  and  Paul's  heart  sunk  within  him  as  they 
shook  their  heads,  indicating  that  their  labor  had 
been  in  vain. 

"  Halloa ! "  cried  one  who  had  wandered  some 
what  apart  from  the  rest,  "  halloa !  he 's  here !  n 
With  a  cry  of  "  where  ?  where  ?  "  the  young  man 
darted  in  the  direction  which  the  other  pointed, 
and  beheld  his  father  kneeling,  with  his  head  rest 
ing  on  the  stone,  beneath  the  old  apple-tree !  The 
sun  was  just  sending  his  first  rays  over  the  top  of 
the  hill  as  they  lifted  the  old  man  up ;  there  was  a 
quiver  on  his  lips,  aud  his  glazed  eye  turned  to 
heaven,  while  he  feebly  cried,  "  God  forgive  me!'* 
and  sunk  lifeless  into  the  arms  of  his  son ! 


CHAPTER   XV. 

The  grated  jail  wherein  are  pent, 
The  guilty  and  the  innocent. 

ANON. 

LET  us  retrace  our  steps ;  let  us  walk  again 
amidst  that  sea  of  hearts,  the  city.  It  is  midnight. 
How  solitary  are  the  streets.  The  houses  stand, 


PAUL    REDDING.  125 

like  a  certain  class  of  mankind,  with  their  souls 
shut  up  in  them,  and  their  iron  arms  laid  across 
their  breasts  as  if  to  say,  "  we  have  tender  feelings, 
we  do  sympathize  with  poor  suffering  mortals  —  yes 
—  we  feel  it  here."  That  is,  they  feel  it  safe  within, 
and  there  they  mean  to  keep  it.  In  traversing  the 
streets  of  a  city  at  midnight,  when  the  lamps  are 
burning  very  dim,  the  stars  very  clear,  and  the 
watchmen  are  very  scarce,  what  odd  fancies  crowd 
upon  the  brain.  At  such  an  hour  it  seems  as 
though  the  houses  had  taken  the  town,  devoured 
the  inhabitants,  and  noW  stood  in  the  most  perfect 
regimental  order,  ready  to  "forward,  march,"  as 
soon  as  their  old  commander,  the  State  House, 
should  give  the  word.  Did  we  say  that  odd  fancies 
came  at  such  an  hour  ?  They  are  gone.  Yonder 
is  the  prison;  fancy  flies  like  a  bird  before  such 
dreadful  realities  as  are  suggested  by  yon  iron- 
beaked  cormorant.  There  she  stands  watching  by 
the  sea  of  misfortune,  waiting  impatiently  to  catch 
whatsoever  the  waves  may  cast  up.  The  darkest 
billow  of  that  ocean  has  burst  at  the  prison  foot, 
and  its  burden  is  poor  Mary.  The  keys  are  grating 
in  the  iron  locks,  the  doors  swing  heavily  on  their 
hinges,  and  rude  hands  thrust  the  poor  creature 
forward  —  forward  into  the  darkness.  She  reels 
against  the  wall  and  sinks  upon  the  hard  oaken 
seat ;  while  her  eyes,  like  those  of  a  little  child, 
turn  instinctively  their  steady  gaze  toward  the 
dim  ray  of  light  that  flickers  through  the  grating 


126  PAUL     REDDING. 

from  a  neighboring  lamp.  There  she  shall  rest 
to-night.  Where  is  Edith  ?  still  is  she  pacing  that 
little  apartment.  She  hears  every  approaching 
footfall ;  stands  breathless  to  listen ;  but  the  night- 
walker  passes  on.  The  watchman's  cry  startles 
her  with  a  shudder  —  "  past  one  o'clock ! "  Again 
and  again  has  she  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  wrapped 
a  shawl  about  her  shoulders  ;  but  the  night  is  dark 
and  still,  fearfully  still,  and  she  shrinks  back  afraid. 
But  soon  she  hears  a  noise  at  the  street  door ;  her 
heart  leaps  for  joy;  perhaps  'tis  Mary  returned! 
The  maiden  grasps  the  lamp  and  hurries  down, 
to  encounter  the  fierce,  scowling  countenance  of 
Munson. 

"  O,  I'm  so  glad!"  exclaimed  Edith,  scarcely 
knowing  what  she  said,  "  where  is  Mary?  " 

"  Where  she  should  be  ! "  growled  the  Quaker, 
between  his  teeth. 

"  Do  tell  me,  where  ?  where  ?  "  said  the  girl,  in 
the  most  supplicating  manner. 

"  Out  of  my  way,"  cried  Munson,  lifting  his 
clenched  fist ;  "  out  of  my  way,  or  I  '11  strike  thee  !  " 
Edith  in  her  terror,  dropped  the  lamp  to  the  floor, 
and  the  miser  and  the  maiden  were  both  deluged 
in  darkness. 

"What  did  thee  do  that  for?"  screamed  the 
Quaker,  as  he  hurried  up  the  stairway ;  she  made 
no  answer,  but  stood  paralyzed  on  the  spot. 

"  Halloa ! "  cried  the  Quaker  again,  from  the 
top  of  the  second  flight  of  stairs.  "  Edith,  thee  jade, 


PAUL    REDDING.  127 

bring  me  a  light ! "  The  poor  girl  hurried  away 
for  another  lamp,  but  long  before  she  found  one, 
Munson  screamed  out  again, 

"  Bring  me  a  light,  I  say,  a  light !  I  '11  not  stay 
here  in  the  dark ! "  But  the  fire  was  out,  the 
matches  misplaced,  and  no  light  appeared. 

"  I  '11  not  stay  in  the  dark  !  "  cried  the  old  man 
again,  "  to  play  with  devils  and  ghosts  !  no  !  no  !  " 
And  rushing  down  stairs  he  fled  through  the  entry, 
and  the  front  door  slammed  loudly  at  his  back. 

Edith  sought  her  chamber  again,  and  flinging 
herself  on  the  bed,  wept  all  night.  The  morning 
came  and  brought  with  it  nothing  welcome  but  the 
light.  Again  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and 
now  hurried  out  into  the  streets.  Hopes  and  fears 
nerved  her  step ;  and  with  a  loud  beating  heart  she 
sought  Fitful's  chamber  ;  the  door  was  open,  she 
passed  in,  but  the  room  was  vacant !  There  were 
papers  strewed  over  the  floor,  the  little  table  and 
chairs  were  upset,  the  brass  clock  that  of  late  ticked 
so  mournfully  on  the  mantel-piece  now  lay  broken 
on  the  hearth ;  all  of  which  were  marks  of  the 
cowardly  Quaker's  malice.  Poor  little  Edith  stood 
in  the  midst  of  this  confusion,  and  covering  her 
face  in  her  hands,  wept  afresh. 

"What!  must  I  encounter  the  fiends  every 
where  ?  "  screamed  a  shrill  voice  at  her  back ; 
Edith  started  with  affright,  and  beheld  again  the 
bloodshot  eyes  of  Munson  glaring  upon  her.  His 
eyebrows  were  clenched,  a  malicious  smile  was 


128  PAUL     REDDING. 

playing  around  his  mouth,  and  his  skinny  fingers 
were  working  nervously  against  his  thumbs. 

"O,  my  father!"  cried  Edith,  falling  upon  her 
knees  and  clasping  her  hands  in  the  most  imploring 
manner,  "  Tell  me  !  tell  me  !  what  is  the  matter  ? 
where  is  Mary  ?  "  Old  Munson  dropped  his  chin 
deep  into  his  neck-cloth,  and  gazing  down  into  the 
sorrowful  face  of  the  maiden,  laughed  hideously. 

"  Please  —  father  —  father  !  "  continued  Edith, 
whilst  the  tears  streamed  down  her  pale  face. 

"  I  'm  not  your  father  !  "  cried  the  Quaker, 
laughing  more  maliciously  than  ever.  "I'm  not 
your  father,  I  never  was !  ha,  ha !  You  're  a 
beggar,  an  outcast !  You  belong  to  the  poor- 
house;  go  home,  go  where  you  belong,  to  the 
poor-house !  he,  he  !  " 

At  the  end  of  this  unfeeling  speech,  Edith  hid 
her  face  in  her  hands,  and  remained  in  that  attitude 
for  a  long  time,  overwhelmed  with  confusion,  grief, 
and  disappointment.  When,  with  timid  eyes,  she 
ventured  to  look  up,  she  found  herself  alone.  Yes, 
she  thought,  alone  in  every  sense  of  the  word  — 
poor  Mary  had  disappeared  in  the  most  mysterious 
manner,  and  her  father  would  no  longer  acknowl 
edge  her.  Now  cast  off,  whither  should  she  go? 
The  last  words  of  Munson  still  rung  in  her  ear  like  a 
funeral  knell, — "  the  poor-house  !  the  poor-house ! " 
and  drawing  a  chair  to  the  window,  she  sat  gaz 
ing,  she  knew  not  how  long,  upon  the  quiet  sky. 
Hour  after  hour  swept  away,  but  she  knew  it  not, 


PAUL    REDDING.  129 

and  she  was  only  awakened  from  her  melancholy 
reverie  by  feeling  the  pressure  of  a  hand  upon  her 
shoulder.  There  was  something  sympathetic  in 
the  touch;  her  heart  leaped,  and  gladness  thrilled 
her  frame  ere  she  well  knew  why ;  but  an  instant 
more  found  her  arms  encircling  the  neck  of  poor 
Mary !  The  woman  returned  the  impassioned 
caress  of  the  girl,  and  Edith  felt  once  more  that 
she  was  not  an  outcast  —  that  there  was  still  one 
heart  that  cherished  her.  Poor  Mary,  with  a 
dozen  others,  had  been  arraigned,  that  morning, 
before  the  police  court,  but  no  accuser  appearing 
against  her  she  was  released,  and  her  first  impulse 
was  to  return  to  Fitful's  apartment,  where  she 
happily  discovered  Edith,  as  we  have  just  described. 
When  the  latter  had  related,  as  well  as  she  could 
between  sobs  and  tears,  her  father's  cruel  treat 
ment,  the  other  heaved  a  heavy  sigh,  and  kissing 
Edith  on  the  brow,  drew  the  maiden's  little  hand 
through  her  own  arm  and  led  her  away.  Their 
steps  were  directed  to  the  house  of  Munson,  which, 
fortunately  for  their  own  quietude,  they  found  did 
not  contain  its  master. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

How  rapidly  they  pass 

To  the  grave  ! 
The  good,  the  bad,  alas, 
How  thoughtlessly  go  all, 
Like  guests  to  a  banquet-hall, 
How  rapidly  they  pass 

To  the  grave  ! 

AFTER  Paul's  first  burst  of  grief  had  in  some 
degree  subsided,  the  neighbors  held  a  conference 
with  him,  in  regard  to  the  disposal  of  FitfuPs  body. 
He  determined  to  have  it  interred  beneath  the  old 
apple-tree,  and  to  have  a  fence  built  about  it  for 
protection,  which  was  accordingly  done ;  but  in 
removing  the  big  stone,  already  mentioned,  the 
laborers  were  terrified  at  the  appearance  of  a 
skeleton  !  The  circumstance  was  made  known  to 
the  young  man,  who,  although  somewhat  astonished 
at  first,  at  last  concluded  that  he  could  solve  the 
mystery,  but  without  communicating  any  of  his 
surmises  to  those  about  him,  ordered  another  coffin 
to  be  made  for  the  reception  of  the  disinterred 
bones.  As  he  contemplated  this  circumstance,  it 
was  evident  to  his  mind,  that  the  skeleton  had 
something  to  do  with  the  mysteries  explained  in 
the  papers  that  Fitful  had  given  him,  and  as  he 
remembered  those  dreadful  disclosures,  the  injunc 
tions  of  his  father,  in  regard  to  the  letter  which  he 
had  written  at  the  Half-way  House,  flashed  upon 


PAUL     REDDING.  131 

him.  Therefore  he  immediately  sent  it  off  in  time 
for  the  mail.  This  being  done,  he  sat  down,  and 
as  calmly  as  possible  perused  again  more  carefully 
the  papers  that  Fitful  had  given  him.  His  late 
grief  had  so  overwhelmed  him,  that  a  new  disclosure 
scarcely  produced  any  visible  change  in  his  feelings 
or  countenance.  He  found  that  he  was  heir  to  a 
large  estate,  which  Nathaniel  Munson  had  managed 
thus  far  to  keep  from  him ;  the  Quaker's  power  to 
trample  a  family  down  into  the  very  dust,  was  thus 
accounted  for.  John  Redding,  otherwise  called 
Fiery  Fitful,  and  Nathaniel  Munson,  had  married 
two  sisters,  the  only  children  of  a  rich  old  farmer, 
who  had  occupied  the  mansion  on  the  banks  of  the 
Brandywine,  a  place  already  described. 

Munson,  for  some  reason  or  other,  had  incurred 
the  dislike  of  his  father-in-law,  and  finding  him  not 
only  likely  to  live  to  a  good  old  age,  if  left  to  die  a 
natural  death,  but  also  likely  to  cut  him  off  in  his 
will,  therefore  he  formed  a  plot,  which  was  ma 
tured  and  executed  in  the  following  manner. 
Having  bribed  the  cut-throat  fellow,  that  has  already 
been  presented  to  the  reader  in  the  character  of  a 
sea  captain,  his  next  plan  was  to  get  his  brother-in- 
law  under  the  influence  of  brandy,  (a  thing  in  those 
anti-temperance  days  not  hard  to  accomplish,)  and 
then  excite  him  to  rage  against  the  old  man,  and  in 
that  state  couple  him  with  Fin,  and  send  the  drunk 
en  man  and  the  villain  to  accomplish  the  designs 
of  a  base  coward.  Thus  were  his  plans  matured, 


132  PAUL     REDDING. 

and  thus  were  they  accomplished  !  John  Redding 
was  a  murderer,  and  ever  after  that,  not  only  was 
he  borne  down  by  the  weight  on  his  conscience, 
but  was  entangled  in  the  web  that  that  wily  villain, 
the  Quaker,  had  thrown  around  him.  He  dared 
not  dispute  whatever  claims  Munson  was  inclined 
to  present ;  thus  all  that  had  ever  been  his  and  his 
family's,  with  the  exception  of  the  smallest  possible 
amount  to  subsist  on,  went  into  the  coffers  of  the 
miser.  Paul  read  this  part  of  the  story  calmly  ; 
but  with  a  deep  determination  that,  not  only  Mun 
son,  but  Fin,  his  accomplice,  should  be  brought  to 
answer  for  their  share  in  the  crime.  Only  once 
did  the  mingled  feelings  of  revenge,  surprise,  and 
pleasure,  gain  any  outward  manifestations  ;  it  was 
when  he  learnt  that "  poor  Mary,"  Munson's  house 
keeper,  was  his  own  mother  !  and  that  little  Edith 
Munson,  as  he  had  been  used  to  call  her,  was  his 
own  sister !  O,  what  a  torrent  of  feelings  had 
torn  his  breast  in  the  short  space  of  three  days  ! 
In  that  time  he  had  embarked,  as  he  thought,  for 
Italy ;  had  been  saved,  as  Fitful  said,  literally  from 
the  jaws  of  a  shark ;  had  walked  many  miles  be 
neath  the  silent  stars  ;  had  saved  his  benefactor, 
the  landlord,  from  ruin  ;  had  no  sooner  found  a 
father  than  he  lost  him  ;  had  come  into  a  large 
fortune;  and,  what  was  best  of  all,  had  found  a 
mother  and  sister  to  enjoy  it  with  him  !  As  soon 
as  he  saw  his  father  interred  with  the  proper  cere 
monies,  he  hastened  to  the  city  to  embrace  those 


PAUL     REDDING.  133 

nearest  and  dearest  to  him,  and  to  carry  out  his 
plans  in  regard  to  Munson  and  Fin.  But  when  he 
arrived  in  town,  he  found  to  his  no  little  surprise, 
that  the  Quaker,  and  the  sea  captain  with  his  crew, 
had  already  been  seized,  through  the  instrumentality 
of  the  letter  which  his  father  had  written.  With 
what  feelings  of  grief  and  pleasure  did  he  fly  to  the 
arms  of  his  mother  and  sister!  Edith  wept  for 
sorrow  at  the  news  of  the  death  of  her  father,  and 
wept  for  joy,  as  she  clasped  the  neck  of  her  only 
brother,  and  for  the  first  time  embraced  "poor 
Mary,"  as  her  real  mother !  By  degrees,  and 
under  the  kind  attentions  of  Edith  and  Paul,  Mary 
recovered  so  far  as  to  be  a  comfort  to  those  about 
her,  and  enjoy  the  caresses  of  her  two  children, 
who  were  ever  anxious  to  administer  to  her  wants 
and  enjoyments. 

But  let  us  look  back  a  little  ;  let  us  see  how  the 
fiend  and  originator  of  the  sorrow  which  we  have 
had  occasion  to  witness,  tottered  to  his  fall.  Mun 
son  no  sooner  learned  that  the  authorities  had  seized 
Fin  and  his  crew,  than  he  suddenly  disappeared 
from  the  eyes  of  all.  No  one  guessed  of  his  where 
abouts.  But  we  will  penetrate  his  retreat.  High  up 
in  that  dark,  little  room,  where,  but  a  few  nights 
since,  we  saw  him  closeted  with  his  accomplice, 
Fin,  had  he  slunk  unseen  away,  like  the  hunted 
fox.  Crouched  up  on  the  old  iron-bound  chest,  he 
sat  with  his  feet  under  him,  his  elbows  on  his  knees, 
and  his  face  resting  in  his  skinny  hands.  Now 


134  PAUL     REDDING. 

swaying  back  and  forth,  as  if  to  lull  his  growing 
fears  to  rest ;  now  starting  convulsively,  and  glaring 
wildly  at  the  door,  whenever  a  sound  met  his  ear; 
and  again  uttering  the  most  fearful  curses,  he 
would  clutch  his  fingers  madly  together,  until  the 
long  sharp  nails  penetrated  his  own  shrivelled 
cheeks.  Thus  with  his  brain  burning,  his  eyes  dry 
and  hot,  his  mouth  parched,  did  he  sit  crouched  upon 
that  old  chest  from  morning  until  night.  But,  O, 
the  night !  The  black  night,  that  brought  with  it 
all  the  terrors  of  imagination,  together  with  the 
fears  of  dreadful  realities !  O  night !  what  a 
scourge  hast  thou  for  the  evil  conscience !  Day 
light,  with  her  living,  searching,  acting  officers  of 
justice,  hath  not  the  thousandth  part  of  the  horrors 
of  thy  dark  silence!  Munson  dared  not  crawl 
forth  from  his  retreat ;  he  saw  in  imagination  myr 
midons  of  the  iron-handed  law,  waiting  at  every 
turn  and  corner.  The  darkness  came,  and  the 
Quaker  dared  not  look  into  it,  he  shut  his  eyes  and 
covered  them  with  his  hands.  But  closed  eyelids 
and  hands  were  not  enough ;  his  fears  saw  through 
all  these  ;  and  he  beheld  the  white  ghost  of  his 
father-in-law  peering  into  his  face.  Again  he  saw 
a  figure  swinging  from  a  gallows,  whirling  and 
swaying  listlessly  in  the  winds ;  cold  lips  whispered 
in  his  ear,  "  Behold  thyself!"  And  the  Quaker, 
bursting  with  terror,  sprung  forward,  with  his  face 
downwards,  on  to  the  floor.  The  night  passed 
away  ;  and  the  morning  found  the  officers  searching 


PAUL     REDDING.  135 

the  dwelling  of  Nathaniel  Munson.  Passing  from 
room  to  room  as  they  ascended  the  stairs,  they 
were  at  last  brought  to  the  place  of  the  Quaker's 
concealment.  Once,  twice,  and  thrice  did  they 
knock,  but  no  answer  came,  and  they  burst  the 
door.  The  old  man,  trembling,  pale  and  haggard, 
sat  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  gazed  wildly  at 
the  men  as  they  entered.  They  approached  him ; 
he  gasped  and  gasped,  as  if  for  breath  to  scream, 
but  could  not ;  then,  being  too  exhausted  to  rise, 
with  his  hands  and  feet,  he  crawled  backwards  into 
the  farthest  and  darkest  corner  of  the  room,  his 
whole  frame  shivering  as  with  the  ague,  his  fallen 
underjaw  quivering,  his  thin  hair  strewed  wildly 
about  his  face,  and  his  red  eyes  starting  from  their 
sockets !  Such  was  the  wreck  of  humanity  which 
on  that  day  was  incarcerated  within  cold  stone 
walls  and  iron  gratings.  Such  was  Nathaniel 
Munson,  the  Quaker ! 

Fin  and  his  crew  had  been  seized  as  pirates,  and 
Munson  as  one  who  was  concerned  in  getting  the 
spoils  of  the  traffic  without  dipping  his  own  hands 
in  blood  ;  but  believing  that  he  was  to  be  tried  both 
for  the  murder  of  his  father-in-law,  and  as  a  spec 
ulator  in  piracies,  and  hearing  that  his  own  son  had 
turned  state's  evidence,  he  resolved  to  anticipate 
the  law,  and  was  found,  one  morning,  suspended  to 
the  grating  of  his  cell  by  his  neck  handkerchief;  he 
was  dead.  Fin  was  executed  on  Bush  hill,  and  the 
most  of  his  crew  were  sent  to  the  State  prison, 


136  PAUL     REDDING. 

many  of  them  for  life  ;.  where,  in  the  course  of  time, 
Captain  Cutlass,  the  warlike  gentleman,  also  was 
lodged  for  safe  keeping,  notwithstanding  he  pro 
tested  that  his  preference  was  in  favor  of  the  king's 
service.  Mr.  Ichabod  Inkleton,  in  the  course  of  a 
few  years,  died  with  a  severe  fit  of  the  "  delirium 
tremens"  which  served  as  a  timely  warning  to  his 
friend,  Mr.  Christopher  Scrapp,  who,  we  believe,  is 
to  this  day  engaged  in  the  innocent  amusement  of 
drawing  what  he  fondly  considers  very  severe 
satires  on  the  "  opposite  party."  The  Hon.  Timo 
thy  Littleworth,  a  very  pussy  old  man,  still  persists 
in  the  belief  that  he  resembles  Napoleon,  and 
when  he  has  been  engaged  in  a  warfare  with  his 
bigger  half,  and  gets  the  worst  of  the  bargain,  and 
is  banished  from  the  house,  as  is  always  sure  to  be 
the  case,  he  finds  a  sufficient  revenge  in  calling  his 
wife  "the  Duke  of  Wellington,"  and  himself 
Bonaparte,  the  great,  but  unfortunate  emperor. 

And  now  that  we  have  gathered  together  the 
loose  threads  of  our  story,  in  the  poetic  language 
of  Sands,  we  exclaim, 

"  Good-night  to  all  the  world  !  there  's  none 
Beneath  the  overgoing  sun, 
To  whom  I  feel  or  hate  or  spite, — 
And  so  to  all  a  fair  good-night ! " 


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